Those who are familiar with "Bear Me Away!", "Anemone" and "Light from the West" may skip this introduction, which merely tells what you already know, and those who are curious to read them should skip it also, since it contains spoilers.

For everyone else: After Frodo passes into the West, he discovers that he can talk to Sam through his star-glass, which he uses to tell his friend of his life in his new home. A few years later he falls in love with the sea-maid Anemone, who had saved his life unknown to him, and they marry after the death of Bilbo, and discover that their match was planned by the Sea-Lord Ulmo. Anemone has several children by a former mate, and she and Frodo also adopt a young elf-maiden, known as Raven, as their daughter. Raven is now married to Anemone's youngest son, Northlight, and they have a little daughter, Amaryllis, named for Frodo's sister who died in infancy.

Anemone had also another son, Darkfin, whom Morgoth was grooming as a successor to Sauron. He was killed by one of his sisters when he made an attempt on the lives of Frodo and his siblings, but through Frodo's intercession he was allowed to return to Middle-earth as a mortal man, "Greenjade", along with Sméagol as companion. But that is another story, "Journey out of Darkness".

 Armariel

~~~~{~@

I. What the Star-glass Said

“The Sea looks very happy today,” Amaryllis remarked to her Granddad after breakfast, as he smoked his pipe. She was scrooched up beside him in the long chair on the terrace of his house. She was too big any more to sit on his lap, but she still liked to snuggle up with him whenever she could. Not but what she didn’t have plenty of competition. Still, she did have the advantage of living just over the bridge that crossed the stream where the waterfalls flowed and the rainbow lingered above until sundown, and so she could usually beat the others to him if she got out early enough.

“The waves are dancing and clapping their hands,” she said importantly.

“Aye, that they are, and I know why,” said the silver-haired hobbit, smiling and wrapping an arm tightly about the elfling, who was nearly as tall as himself now. Her braided hair was blue-black and full of soft waving mystery like her mum’s, her eyes violet and starry like her grandmum’s, her features sharp and fair like her dad’s, but her spirit was all her own.

Why was I named for a dead person? she had demanded to know when informed that she'd been named for her great-aunt, her Granddad’s sister, who had died when she was a tiny babe. They had told her that after she’d demanded to know why she’d been named for a boat—her best friend Silivren’s parents having a boat bearing the same name. You should feel honored, her parents both told her, and so did Silivren’s parents, and also Silivren’s brother Little Iorhael, who wasn’t so little now, but was still called that around here so as not to confuse him with Granddad. And they showed her the pretty stone bearing the name of the great-aunt. Amaryllis knelt down and stared at it, trying to feel honored. She tried sitting on it, but that only made her bottom cold, so she danced around it, humming her favorite song, which was about a dolphin who saved a prince, then running and jumping over it again and again. When that didn’t work, she picked some of the flowers that grew nearby and made a garland, and wrapped it about herself, and knelt down again, but still could not understand why she should feel honored to be named for a dead baby, and finally she laid the garland gently over the stone and went home with her hands clasped behind her back. How could a baby be a great-aunt anyway?

“There’s a good reason why it glitters and dances today, my Bud,” Granddad was saying as she laid her head on his shoulder and took his hand in hers. “And that’s because someone special is coming to the Island.”

“Truly?” She lifted her head and looked him full in the face. “How do you know this, Granddad?”

“The star-glass told me,” he said nodding. “And it never lies.”

“Ahhh! Don’t tell me who’s coming,” she said, and for some reason she shut her eyes tight. “Let me guess. He’s coming by ship, right?”

“Well, it’s a bit far to swim, I should think,” her Granddad said with a naughty twinkle in his still bright blue eyes. “And I somehow doubt he’ll be arriving by wave-board. And he hasn’t the power to spirit himself here, much as he’d like. So tell me, who’s coming?”

Amaryllis giggled. She knew perfectly well who was coming and that he was arriving by ship. She just liked to pull her Granddad’s leg when she could. “Is it…can it be…oh, pooh. The others are here!”

Not that she wasn’t always glad to see her cousins, but today they were spoiling The Moment. And she’d wanted to be alone with Granddad when she spoke The Name. It wouldn't be the same if she spoke it now.

Six of them were approaching the cottage now, two boys and four girls. Summershine, their mum, held the two littlest ones by the hands, smiling gaily as she hastened them along—she was always smiling and sunshiny, just like her name, and she laughed and swooped up the smallest one in a circle then balanced him on her hip, as his sister broke away and began to run, her tiny bare feet scarcely making a print on the sand. Well, but Amaryllis had one comfort: she knew ahead of all the others Who was coming! And she couldn’t wait one more moment to tell them, and so she sprang up from the chair and dashed out to meet them, nearly knocking poor Granddad out the other side in her haste.

He chuckled to watch her go, feeding the ashes of his pipe to the midsummer breeze. Anemone was coming out the door just then, and she looked at him with a huge smile--well, huge for a woman of about three feet and eight inches high--for he was outshining the sun, himself, in his radiance, which no amount of age could steal from him. Whether it was at the sight of the great-grandchildren or at the thought of Who was coming, she could not have said for certain.

Somewhere a ship
rides waves of mystery
a vast cradle rocking
her sails blithely swelling
in warping wind and soaring sun,
marbled moon and staggered stars
her hull girt with greatness,
her prow blessed and bright...........

II. The Ebbing of the Tide

“Do you know when the ship will arrive?” Anemone asked her husband as she settled into Amaryllis’s place beside him in the long chair, and Summershine handed over little Peregrin to them, then took Starbright on her own lap in the swing.  The others—Arkenstone, Skylark, Treasure, and Glimmerglass, had gone down near the bridge with Amaryllis, evidently in some sort of conspiracy.  Raven was still inside, cleaning up.

“Sometime in the evening,” Frodo said.  “I saw the ship hoving into view with the western sun in her sails, turning them to scarlet.”

“Scarlet,” little Starbright said beaming at one and all.  She had a cousin named Scarlet.

“Yes, lovey,” Summershine said in obvious delight. 

“Scolit,” Peregrin repeated, clasping his tiny hands.  He always repeated everything he heard.  Especially when it was something he wasn’t supposed to hear. 

“Are you certain it will be today?” Anemone asked bouncing her great-grandson up and down on her knees.  “We should send word to Fairwind and Barathon.  And Embergold, and Lyrien and Perion.  They would definitely want to be there at the harbor.” 

“Dah-bo,” Peregrin repeated.  

“‘Harbor’,” his sister corrected him. 

“Scolit,” he said grinning.  Starbright rolled her eyes in exasperation and looked up to her mum. 

“They will know,” Frodo said.  “The Queen knows the ship is coming.  Lord Celeborn will be on it also.  And Perion and Lyrien and their little one live at the Palace, you know.  I think the word will get out fast.  I shouldn't wonder if they are planning a party of special magnificence in the Park, this very moment.” 

“That’s so,” Anemone said smiling, taking little Peregrin’s hands and clapping them together.  “The Queen will be so overjoyed.  I do not see how she got on so long without him.” 

“Tween mout him,” Peregrin said happily. 

“I wish I could go to the harbor with you all,” Summershine said, “but Belladonna’s babe is due any day now.  And I should scarcely like to miss the birth of my first grandchild.” 

Frodo smiled at her.  She appeared scarcely out of her tweens, and looked so like Anemone when he had first met her, it was positively uncanny. 

Anemone did not go into the City much any more; she was shy of others now that she was showing signs of age when no other females were.  He did not mind such signs, himself.  In fact, it was comforting to know he was not the only one on the Island who was showing the imprints of time.  And she was lovely as ever, as far as he was concerned.  Her soft blue eyes had crinkles at the corners, especially when she smiled, there was a line or two across her forehead, some silver strands among the gold; she was plumper and less light on her feet than she had once been.  What would she would do when he was gone? For he knew his time was not much longer.  Daily he could feel his strength ebbing little by little, and he would clutch at it, thinking, no no no, I must remain until he comes, what would he do if he arrived here and I am not?  Give me that much more time, at least....  

Now that time was at hand.  And he was remembering Bilbo’s last night, his uncle wondering what could be better than what he had now.  What could be better than all this?  His wife of nearly sixty years, the children and grandchildren and great-granchildren, so delightful every one of them, even though it was getting to the point where he sometimes had trouble remembering which name belonged to which, and got them confused at times, which seemed to worry some of them, and tickled others.  Could the Other Side really be any better?

He had resigned as counselor and inspector at the Orphans’ Home nearly twenty-five years ago, not being needed there any more.  Most of the children were grown up or adopted, and no others were coming in.  So he had retired his post and stayed home, contenting himself with puttering around the garden, writing poetry and journals, teaching the little ones their letters, and watching them grow, and play, and work, and dance, and dream, revealing new beauties to him day by day.  What could be better? 

“I often forget that not a drop of my blood is in their veins,” he had remarked to Anemone once, as he watched them on the beach in the late afternoon, and she pretended to slap his wrist. 

“Now how can you say such a thing, Frodo Baggins?” she chided him.  “There’s not a one of them that hasn’t something of you.  Some have your gift for words, and others share that knack you have of knowing just the right thing to say or do to turn a person into the right path, and still others who show your own wonder at the beauties all about you.  And I can swear I’ve seen your light shining from some of them.  They are satellites of yourself, catching your glory as they circle all about you.  The beam of your tower fills their sails.  They do have your blood, in the very best sense, and that you can tie to.” 

~*~*~ 

Raven wiped away a tear as she put away the dishes and listened to the happy chatter outside.  The day she had long dreaded was here at last.  Not that she was not happy for her Ada, but at the same time she knew that this was the beginning of the end.  She had always been aware of the fact of his mortality, of course, but most times she could manage not to think of it, file it away in a strong-box at the back of her mind.  But now the box stood open and there the document was laid out for all to see who would look at it.  How long would he linger?  A few weeks?  A year?  Two years?  And what would Nana do when he was gone?  What would SHE do?  And Northlight?  And Amaryllis? 

Particularly Amaryllis, Island-born as she was.  Deaths of pets she had witnessed more than once, but death of human beings was something of which she knew naught.  And she and Ada were so close.  She would never experience anything of what her mother had known in her childhood, and for that Raven was profoundly thankful.  Her daughter had led a sweet, simple and joyous life on the Island, full of friends and learning and beauty, free of fear and horror and dread and privation, and to her the terrible things she read and heard of in stories were just that, things in stories.  To her, Ada was simply a beloved grandparent; she did not truly comprehend that she was alive and carefree now because of him, as were they all.  But what would his loss do to her young soul?  Would it sweeten and strengthen her, teach her compassion and consideration for others, make her more thoughtful and dimensional?  Or would it tear her apart, make her bitter, angry, fragmented, questioning, diminished? 

Should I prepare her? Yes, surely I must.  But how? I think the idea of mortality upsets her.  Well I remember when she asked why she had been named for a dead person.  Some laughed about that, when they heard, but I could not, even when she was not there.  Because I understood, all too well.  But how to tell her now, that her grandfather is going away soon, and she will never see him again?  

Yes, in preparing her, I will be preparing myself.  If one can ever truly be prepared for such a thing.  I remember a poem in one of Ada’s books, in which he wished he could impart the Gift to his loved ones.  ‘Why must their night endure so long? Why can we not await the dawn together as one?’ Truly, why? I don’t wish him to worry about us.  I wish him to enjoy the time he has left with his beloved companion for whom he has waited so long, and not fret himself over how the rest of us will do without him.    

But, but...how WILL we do?  

Northlight came in just then in his noiseless way, and caught her in his arms, and she clung to him silently.  No words were needed, always they had understood each other perfectly from the day of their first meeting.  And he held her for a long moment, caressing her hair, and they stood thus entwined, just out of the morning sunlight that streamed only gently and hesitantly through the open kitchen window.  

And at last Raven carefully wiped away all signs of tears, lifted her head up, and went out smiling with her husband onto the terrace to join the others as they made their joyful plans for the coming of the Special Guest who would take their beloved away.

III. Easthope Sunbrother

After a good bit of debate about who should fix dinner, Raven said she would do it, and they should come to her house to eat tonight, since there was more room. She wanted Amaryllis to help her. The child protested, “I want to go to the harbor, mummy!” and looked pleadingly all about her, especially at her Granddad.

“Let her go,” Anemone said. Little Peregrin had dropped off to sleep during all the discussion, wedged between her and Frodo. “I will help.”

“But Nana,” Raven said, “don’t you wish to be with Ada when you…”

Frodo said, fondling the little one’s tawny silky hair, “I don’t wish him overwhelmed with the entire family at his arrival. Northlight must drive me, but…”

“But…but…” Amaryllis looked close to tears, “I want to see them meet. After soooo many years apart…”

“So we all do,” her mum remonstrated, “but it’s their moment, and…”

“Lots of people will be there,” Amaryllis said sniffling. “Probably everybody.”

“Let her go, please, Raven,” Frodo said. “I do not mind sharing the moment.”

“Let everyone go who wants,” said a voice, and all turned to see Tilwen coming up the walk with Silivren in tow. “I will fix dinner, and Mother will help.”

Silivren skipped away from her mum and made herself right at home on the steps beside Amaryllis, who wiped her eyes and smiled at her friend.

“How did you know of it so soon, Til?” Anemone asked, rising to embrace her.

“Darling, are you forgetting who my mother is, after all this time?” Tilwen said giggling and stooping to kiss Anemone’s cheek, then Raven’s. “If someone gets betrothed, or sprains an ankle, or buys a new cloak, she knows the moment it happens, and will have it all over the Island in a matter of hours—the less suitable the mate, the more severe the sprain, or the less fashionable the cloak, the faster. So…what did you have in mind for dinner?”

“What is Sam’s favorite?” Anemone asked her husband.

“I think it is roast beef with fixings,” Frodo said uncertainly, hoping his memory did not fail him in everything. “Mushroom gravy, potatoes, onions, carrots, turnips…but he also likes leg of lamb, and fish and chips—and that would be easier to come by. Then there is roast suckling-pig, but I think no one would have sucklings this time of year. And the beef would be hard to come by…”

“Our fellows would be glad to bring in some fish,” Anemone said. “Then we would not have to send to the butcher-shop for something.”

“Is it really dead cow meat?” Skylark said, putting back a wisp of long pale hair. “Sounds horrible.”

“Not a bit of it,” laughed Frodo.

“You never tried it?” cried Silivren. “It must be tasted to be believed. Especially how my mum cooks it.”

“I detest the thought of killing a poor wee lamb,” said Amaryllis. “I could never bring myself to eat one. How barbaric!”

“It would take a long time to roast a pig,” Tilwen said, “but…”

“What about squid?” Treasure said eagerly.

“I think not,” Frodo laughed again. “I think—”

“We would need a whole side of beef,” Anemone said, “and—”

“I could catch fish myself,” said Summershine. “We wouldn’t have to send the fellows for it, I could just dive right into the water and—”

“Not send the fellows for it?” Northlight said. “We would be happy to do our part.”

“Yes, we could catch a whole net full,” Arkenstone said, “and…”

“We could have--”

“What about--”

“That would be too--”

“But we could--”

“The fish are spawning and--”

“Fissss,” little Peregrin said, waking up just at that moment. Now it was Starbright who had curled up asleep in her mummy’s lap like an oversized kitten.

“Yes, fishhhh,” said Summershine with a giggle. Peregrin slapped himself on the cheeks several times and went “Brrrrrr!”

“Mummy, he’s being ridiculous again,” grumbled Glimmerglass.

“He’s a baby, lovey,” Summershine smiled. “He’s entitled to be ridiculous.”

“Dicluss,” Peregrin agreed. Everyone laughed but Glimmerglass, who groaned and rolled up her eyes.

“Wait, I know!” Amaryllis shouted, jumping straight up from the step on which she had been sitting with Silivren. “I know just the thing!”

Starbright woke up just that moment, blinking.

“And that would be?” Raven raised her eyebrows. Amaryllis grinned up at her Granddad, who grinned back with a “But of course” expression.

And he and Amaryllis said together, “BILBO’S DELIGHT!”

~*~*~

Little Iorhael, who came up just then with his father, was sent into town to procure the needed ingredients, and Arkenstone hastened off with him to help him carry the things back. Amaryllis said to Silivren, grabbing her hand, “Let’s go curl our hair. We’ve no time to lose!”

“But curly hair is not in vogue now,” Anemone said, but the girls didn’t seem to hear her, as they thundered in the front door, Skylark, Treasure, and Glimmerglass scrambling after them. The others laughed.

“I’ve a feeling it will make a very swift comeback,” Tilwen said, as she watched her son go with dreamy eyes. Little Iorhael was the fastest runner of any elf-lad his age on the Island, and he could outrun many older ones as well. Hardly anyone would race with him now, because they knew they didn’t stand a chance of beating him. He was beautiful to watch in motion, his fiery hair streaming behind him, his long legs pumping in a blur of incredible grace.

Arkenstone, running along beside his friend, was much smaller, but just as swift. The two lads appeared as a yearling bay colt galloping along with a little black-maned pony at his side, in effortless harmony beneath the island brilliance.

 Galendur sat himself down on the floor beside his dearest friend, after kissing him on top of his head, and when his son was out of sight, he looked to Frodo, at a loss for words…very unusual indeed, for him. Frodo met his eyes, having some idea what the Elf was thinking. He wondered how it had been for his friend to watch him grow older, when he himself did not age. Wondering if they would grow apart, when Frodo grew too old to play, capable only of watching, making the occasional pithy observation, handing out advice, sometimes without being asked for it…which he had told himself he would never do but occasionally caught himself at it anyway. But Galendur had never abandoned him; he was as a devoted son now, coming by several times a week, taking him out driving or boating sometimes, accompanying him to the Sporting Center or just sitting and talking to him as equal. Five years ago Frodo had fallen down the steps at the Palace and broken his leg in two places, and had to stay there for several months while it healed. Galendur had come to see him even then, keeping him cheered and amused as far as he was allowed. 

“Why don’t you take a chair,” Frodo said cheerily enough, at the same time reaching down a hand to him. “We’ve plenty enough of them.”

“Because then I’d have to get up,” Galendur said just as cheerily, taking the small withered hand and pressing it very gently, “and my backside is perfectly happy where it is.”

“Lazy sod,” Frodo teased him.

“Bloody well right,” Galendur said with a wink. “So…when is this ship supposed to be arriving?”

“According to the Fount of All Knowledge,” Tilwen said, “otherwise known as my mother, approximately half-past six. Which gives us about eight hours. They’re not having the party in the park tonight; it will be tomorrow.”

“Good,” Frodo said. “I do not think he would be up to a huge party tonight. He would want just the family about, I’m sure. My dearest, is the guest-room well dusted and everything?”

“I shall see to that,” Raven said. “I’ll take the curtains down and wash them. I’m sure they haven’t been washed in maybe a year.”

“I hope the voyage was not too rough for him,” Frodo said thoughtfully. “I invoked the Sea-Lord to give him smooth passage and the winds to blow the ship as quickly as possible, and the heavens to shine on him in the day-time. He has ever had a horror of the water. I wonder at him coming at all.”

“I don’t,” Anemone said with a little smile as she settled down beside him in the long chair once more and laid her head on his shoulder.

~*~*~

They met Guilin in town, along with his two eldest sons, Arthion and Turin. Guilin and Nessima had a nice large house near what was once the Orphanage. It was now mainly a school for all children in the City, and the dormitories had been converted into living quarters for the teachers and staff. Guilin had a thriving confectionary business he ran together with his partner Tulian, with Nessima who did the book-keeping, and also with Arthion and Turin, who were boys yet but well able to help out, especially Arthion, who had a combination of his father’s head for business and his mother’s no-nonsense approach to hard work. And Turin made up for what he lacked in both by his incorrigible good humor and unflagging friendliness. And dark-eyed Little Anemone and red-cheeked Carandol were small and adorable enough to draw customers when all else failed. 

Frodo, Anemone and Northlight stopped in the shop to have an ice, on the outdoor terrace—for one of Guilin’s big ideas was to have tables outside, an idea other proprieters had taken up also--and told in soft voices of the coming ship, while a street-musician strummed a cittern nearby. And Turin said, “How jolly! I’ve never seen a ship, except barges from Aman, and they don’t count.”

“Will they let us come on board?” Arthion asked. “And go down below? And climb on the rigging?”

“Will the crew sing wicked songs,” Turin queried, “and have tattoos?” His mother shushed him sharply.

Little Anemone said, “Will they bring treasure?”

“They will indeed,” Frodo smiled, “but not the kind in chests.”

“Will the captain have a monkey?” asked little Carandol, who had heard many stories from his dad.

“If he doesn’t,” Guilin grinned, “we can lend you to him for a while.”

Carandol shook his head emphatically like a wet dog and all laughed. Long afterward, they went to Fairwind’s. It was not far from the harbor, at that. 

Barathon hefted Frodo up from the cart and carried him to the garden outside, and set him down on the long chair they kept especially for him, while Fairwind laid a beautifully woven throw over him. He had never been quite the same since his fall five years ago; he had been able to get along quite well before then, if a trifle more stiffly than in his younger days. Now he walked with a limp always and had to use a stick, and his leg pained him in certain types of weather. Fairwind, being the healer that she was, made him the sort of tea that eased such pains, although the weather was fine. The tea usually made him sleepy, and he finally curled up for a nap, after making the others promise to wake him when it was time to go to the harbor. And Anemone, sitting beside him near a bank of crimson and white roses and fragrant purple wisteria, stroking his silver curls, cheek and hands, watching the familiar light that slowly began to radiate beneath his skin, spoke the thought that no one else had dared express that day, though nearly all had been thinking it.

“His time won’t be much longer now, will it?” she said just above a whisper to their stricken faces. A thrush that had been singing quite merrily flew to a more distant tree to continue his song. And the sea murmured of treasures and heroes, and patient dreams, and bridges and stars and poetry, and small flowers that lived sweet brief days alongside of trees that abided throughout the ages. And the wind mustered up a vigorous breath of air to fill sails embroidered with swans and flutter banners high above anxious heads and hearts. And young Meriadoc laid his chin on the shoulders of his old mastiff who lay dozing in the soft afternoon sunlight, the tamarinds above making dark dancing lace on the dog’s back, and little Éowyn played a slow haunting melody on her flute, up in her tree-seat nearby.

And the sun sank lower and lower in the West.

~*~*~

“It’s well that the sun is behind us,” Frodo murmured as they stood near the dock. “Or some of us should go blind with watching.”

There was, as had been anticipated, a large crowd, although not so huge as some had expected. Frodo stood between Anemone and Northlight, and Fairwind and Barathon and their children stood to their right, and Raven and Amaryllis to their left, along with Arkenstone, Skylark, Treasure and Glimmerglass. Guilin and his family stood next to them, and Galendur with his son and daughter. And Nightingale and Gloryfall, with their elven husbands Calanon and Amonost…the twins looking no less girlish than they had the first time Frodo had ever seen them, although now they seemed to have acquired a trifle more solidity. And he smiled to think they would meet the one they had named Easthope Sunbrother, so long ago….

And the crowd cheered as the Royal Family arrived in their coach, Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían stepping out first, then their young daughter Lúthien, looking like a girlish version of her maternal grandmother, all in white, her rippling golden locks elaborately arranged. Then Lady Elwing, and Olórin, formerly known as Gandalf, with his wife Ríannor and son Arasirion…and then the Queen’s young footman, Perion, together with his wife Lyrien and their small son Perhael…And then the Queen herself, arrayed almost as for a wedding. A collective gasp went up from the rest of the crowd as well.

When Lyrien spied Frodo, a smile lit her nearly all over, and she took little Perhael by the hand and hastened over, daintily making her way through the crowd.

“Iorhael!” she said, “Is he truly coming?”

“Yes, truly,” Frodo said as he embraced her, and then little Perhael, who had his mum’s coppery locks and big hazel eyes. He had been born just five years ago, at the same time Frodo had fallen on the Palace steps—when he had come to see the new arrival. Up until his birth, Lyrien had been a lady-in-waiting to the Queen.

“I can scarcely wait to meet him,” she said. “It seems almost too good to be true that he really is coming. Remember when Marílen and I played you and him with our dolls when we were little?”

“How could I forget? Where is Marílen?”

“She’s here somewhere—surely, and Dínlad and their folks. But there are so many people, I can’t see her. It's hard for her to get away what with the baby and all, but surely she wouldn’t miss Sam coming for anything.”

Frodo ruffled Perhael’s hair gently. The little boy was silent, clutching at his mum’s hand.

“Sam’s name in Elvish is Perhael also,” Frodo said to him, although the little one had surely already been told so. “Although, I’ve always thought it should be ‘Panthael’—fully wise. And your daddy played him on the stage, when he was but a lad himself.”

Perion came up just then, and scooped up his small son from behind and set him up on his shoulders. Lyrien laughed.

“There, young ’un, now maybe you can see,” Perion said. “Doesn’t take after his dad much, does he? Scarcely a word he says, even alone with us.”

“Who can talk with you around?” Lyrien laughed at her husband, putting a hand to her curled hair. “I have squiggles, did you notice?”

And they talked and reminisced, and finally Perhael ventured to speak, informing the others that his puppy ate bugs, and for some reason Anemone blinked back tears at this, and finally a squeal broke forth from Amaryllis, who grabbed her granddad by the arm and pointed out to the horizon, on which something was heaving into sight, and several gulls sprang from out of nowhere and began circling high above.

“LOOK!!” she shrieked with a most unprincessly abrogation of dignity. “HE’S COMING! HE’S HERE! HE’S HEEEEERE!!!”

And the entire crowd broke into song.

How will it be, to meet you again?
Will our eyes dart
from one side to the next
shy of connecting? Will my arms
hesitate to clasp you, however anxious
my heart to bump into yours
and will you know me
after so many years
have done their work?
I'd know you anywhere;
amongst the stars
on the moon
in the midst of nowhere
or in a dream
no fear that I won't.
But will you know me?

IV. What the Harbor Saw

Sam was fairly blinded by the sunlight just above the western horizon.   He could barely see the water in front of him, and that would have suited him just fine, were it not that he could not see the harbor ahead.  

He felt Lord Celeborn’s hand on his shoulder once more, and hear his voice asking him if he were all right.

“Is your leg hurting you any now, Master Samwise?” he asked.  “I think it has been nearly two hours since your last draught.”

“It feels all right now, Lord Celeborn,” Sam murmured, “but I’d feel a heap better if’n I could see where we’re goin’.”

“Almost here, my friend,” the elf-lord chuckled.  “I can hear the singing, can you?”

“I hear…somethin’,” Sam said, “but singin’?  It just sounds like the wind rattlin’ the sails to me.  But then I don’t have elf-ears, if you take my meanin’.  And anything sounds good to me now that we’re ‘most here.  Meanin’ no disrespect, but it seems like we’ve been on the sea ever since I can remember now.  At first I didn’t think I’d make it…but thanks mostly to you, I managed to get used to it by and by.  Don’t rightly know how, but I did.”

“Again I must marvel at the size of the heart inside of that small body,” the elf-lord said seriously.  Sam looked up at the tall figure with the long pale hair fluttering in the wind.  “And according to you, not only your master, but an entire throng awaits your coming with joy.”

“I’m still havin’ a hard time believin’ it myself,” Sam said, turning his eyes back to the western horizon.  Now he could make out a vast shape, although it was still leagues away, that appeared to be mountains, floating in a gold-tinted mist, stretching out either way as far as he could see, dark against the impossibly blue sky banked with scarlet and bronze and rose-gold clouds.  “Even if Mister Legolas did say he knew that fellow that’s Mister Frodo’s friend here.  It all just seems too good for true.  But I hope it’s not, for his sake.  And he says they’re all just wild to meet me.  THAT’s what I find hardest to believe.  I just hope they won’t be disappointed in what they see.”

Celeborn suppressed a mighty impulse to laugh out loud.  “I very seriously doubt they will be!” he said, then sobered.  “And I seriously hope that my daughter will not have forgotten me, and that she has found true healing and joy here.”

“Of course she has!” Sam said in simple astonishment.  “Mister Frodo said she did.  He wouldn’t lie about such a thing as that.”

Now it was his turn to wonder, not for the first time, about the endurance of Elves, how they could contain so much sorrow for such unimaginable periods of time, such anguish as would destroy a mortal soul in a matter of years, if not less.  He shook his head.  It was hard enough to have to give up Mister Frodo for sixty-odd years.  How did Lord Celeborn manage without his lady?  How had he done separated from his daughter for five centuries?  Sam couldn’t think upon it. 

And he was getting impatient.  The wind had died down, and had picked a mighty nice time to do it.  Some of the crew were trimming the sails and singing one of the songs they sometimes sang, with words Sam didn’t understand, and he could see more clearly now that the sun was behind the clouds.  It was still daylight, and the water seemed to be on fire below them…and what was this?  A big fish had leaped up from the water, quite high in the air—silvery-white it was, and seemed to have a smile on its face, and it seemed to laugh as it bounded upward and back down again with a loud splash.  Then it came up again, with three more just like it, and if they didn’t turn flips in the air as they rose, all four of them, and land on their backs in the water, splashing it every which way!

“Did you see that?” Sam asked Lord Celeborn.  “Are they…them fishes that…”

“Dolphins?  Yes, Master Samwise, indeed they are,” Lord Celeborn smiled.  “It has been many years indeed since I’ve seen them.”

“I wonder if…never mind,” Sam stared in wonder.  “Oi—the sea-birds!  They’re flyin’ out to us!”

NOW he could hear singing!

~*~*~

As the ship drew ever closer, Frodo felt his knees go wobbly under him, and Northlight’s arm around his waist steadying him, and Anemone’s hand clutching tightly at his.  His lips formed the word Sam but no one heard.  His feet wanted to skip and dance as they had not done in many years.  The singing grew louder but he did not join in.  The moment was beyond words, beyond music, to him. 

Sam.  Sam.  At last.  So many years have passed, and now it seems I have always lived here. The time before the Quest seems merely a period of a very long childhood to me.  And it seems that it was not until the Quest that I really began to live, and I did not like what I saw.  Now it seems to me merely a very hard and long travail, during which joy began to get itself born, until finally it emerged and lay soft and warm and incredibly sweet before me, and grew into what it is today, and I cannot imagine a time now when it was not.  And now the full culmination of it is coming to pass…

I can see you now!  Is that Lord Celeborn beside you?  My eyesight is not what it once was…nothing about me is what it was…perhaps I should put on this special eye-glass Lord Elrond made for me, which pocket is it in?  I see you…your hair is all white, and you are stouter than I remember…you are leaning on a stick, as I do. I am thankful you had Lord Celeborn to look after you; I prayed someone would do so.  And now the ship is drawing nearer, ever nearer… You are leaning on the rail now; are you trying to see if you can pick me out of the crowd?  I dare say your eye-sight is not what it once was either.  Do you see how many people besides myself are anxiously awaiting your arrival?  

“Ada, why don’t you sit down for a few minutes?” he heard Northlight ask him.  “It will be nearly a quarter of an hour before she docks.  We have time yet.”

“No no no no,” Frodo resisted his son’s efforts to draw him toward a bench, fearing Sam would lose sight of him.  “I’m all right, truly.”

Some of the children, getting restless with the long wait, had gotten up a game with balls and sticks nearby.  Even Amaryllis couldn’t stand still any longer; she and her girl-cousins and Silivren had all taken hands and were dancing in a ring, and Lyrien’s little sister Castiel ran up and joined them, and her brother Eruestan tried to join but she mouthed at him primly, “No boys!”  Frodo smiled to himself, then turned his eyes back toward the ship….

…which was drawing still closer…

No ship ever had
such a gem at her prow.
And I wave and skip,
my loved ones looking on
in worried delight
catching my joy
in basins of gladness
as it overflows
in an endless fountain……

Anemone looked to him once more and he to her.  She was all in blue, he noted with approval, wearing a little straw hat, and he hoped she did not feel self-conscious here in such a crowd…but she did not seem to be thinking of how she looked.  He pressed Northlight’s arm, remembering how Northlight had resigned his post at the college where he taught Marine Sciences, after Frodo had taken his fall, to come and care for his grounds.  He did so gladly, and his brothers Moonrise and Ebbtide helped.  Northlight did greatly enjoy being with his brothers, and Frodo thought he might not go back to the college, although he was very well thought of there, and not just because he was the Ringbearer’s stepson….

The twins drew in closer, along with their husbands.  Frodo looked to them, and to Calanon and Amonost.  Amonost was the grandson of the sculptor Annûnlanthir…who was the son of the greatest sculptor in the world, Alkhaklëion…who had designed the Argonath.   Frodo still could hardly take it in that he had a descendent of the designer of the Arogonath in his own family.  Well, five of them, now.

Frodo found he had to take off his eyeglass and wipe it with his handkerchief, for it kept misting up.  Once again Anemone and Northlight tried to draw him to a bench, and this time he allowed it, for his legs were beginning to feel achy and wobbly.  He pulled her down beside him and she yielded, but Northlight remained standing, and Raven came to stand beside him. 

The ship’s sails looked bright gold by now, like windows of colored glass, and the swan designs on them stood out darkly.  Eruestan asked Frodo what it was like to be on a big ship and Frodo said it was so long ago, he couldn’t remember exactly. 

“I was sick much of the time, anyway,” he said to the little fellow.  “And so I kept below the deck.  But once in a while I did come above, when I was feeling better, and it was often rather exciting.  People made much over me and Bilbo.  Bilbo told them all manner of tales, and I loved the way they all listened and showed him so much respect.  Then one day a flock of dolphins came swimming up along with us, following our ship…”  He glanced aside at Anemone, who was pretending to gaze at the approaching vessel, but had a little half-smile on her lips.  “…and I felt a sudden wild urge to go swimming with them.  And I asked the captain if he might stop the ship so that I might do so.  Of course he must have thought I’d gone a bit daft, but Lord Elrond bade him stop the ship.  In I went, and I dived much too far down and nearly drowned, and one of the dolphins pushed me above the water and saved my life.  Very kind and clever creatures, the dolphins.” 

He smiled sweetly at Eruestan.  Lyrien, standing close to her little brother, stifled a giggle. 

“What is so funny?” he asked.  He had inherited a good deal of his father’s seriousness also.

“I don’t know,” Frodo shrugged elaborately.  “Perhaps it is the fact that I ended up wedded to that same dolphin.  It’s not so much that it’s funny, rather than it was such an unusual situation that worked out so beautifully in the end.”

Eruestan puckered his brow and wrinkled his nose in the way he had when he was thinking over what he’d just been told. 

“You are pulling my leg, right?” he said. 

“He’s really not,” Lyrien said.  “There she is right beside him.”

“She’s not a dolphin,” Eruestan pointed out.  “She’s the Princess.  She’s a lady.”

“She is indeed,” Frodo said.  “Perhaps I am pulling your leg a bit, Eruestan.  But all that is what I remember best about my voyage.  And I am glad you asked me, for I was feeling just a little too excited, and too much of that is not good for me, at my age.”

“I’m sooooo glad Sam is finally coming,” Lyrien said.  “I’ve been longing to meet him ever since I was a little girl.  I don’t know if I ever told you this before…I’m sure I did, I’m so silly…but when I first fell in love with Perion was when I was watching the play, the third part, when he was holding you, I mean Dínlad, in his arms in the tower…I’m sorry, Iorhael, I KNOW you don’t like to be reminded of that, but…”

“It’s all right, sweet one,” Frodo said smiling.  She had told him before, long ago, but he liked to hear it again, and he doubted Eruestan knew of it.  “Go on?”

“Well, that was the big moment,” she said.  “I was only a child then, of course, but when he ran in there and killed the ‘orc’ and then picked you, I mean Dínlad up, and just held him like that…it was so real, and I just melted all over the place like a pool of butter…and I knew then and there I was going to marry him when I grew up.  Isn’t it wonderful, Iorhael?  How we all got our heart’s desires here, just like you said?”

He reach over and took her hand without answering, remembering the day of her wedding.  She had been rather young, he had thought, but she had so wanted him to marry them, and was afraid he wouldn’t be around anymore to do so if they waited too long.  She would just die if he didn’t perform it, she assured him.  And her mother did dote on Perion, and so did Frodo, and Lyrien had always been mature for her age anyway.  He had lost count of all the weddings he had performed. 

“It’s not fair that I didn’t get to see the play,” Eruestan grumbled.  “I can’t help it if I wasn’t borned yet.  Why don’t they play it again?”

“Perhaps they will,” his sister said.  “And maybe you’ll get to play Sam this time…or you’ll play Iorhael, and Perhael can play Sam.” 

She grinned over at her son, who was standing a few yards away with his grandparents now, holding onto his daddy’s hand.  Frodo felt profoundly grateful that he would never have to watch the play again, yet regretful at the same time.  

A gasp went up from the crowd.  The ship was almost here!  Tiredness and age forgotten, Frodo sprang to his feet—yes, sprang, albeit a bit creakily, and Anemone had to steady him, laughing a little, but with some sadness in her eyes, which he didn’t notice.  The ship was less than half a league away from the port, as far as he could tell, adjusting his double-eyeglass.  Then he took it off and put it in his vest pocket, fearing it would get knocked off and broken, barely noticing how his hands were shaking….

The ship was getting closer…and the little girls had broken up their ring-dance…and Lyrien was telling her brother something too softly for Frodo to understand, although he caught the words “Sam” and “Rosie” and had to wonder…and Gandalf was coming to stand nearby…closer…and the sun was still high above the horizon…and the twins were gathering in their children, Calanon breaking up a fight between his son and another lad who had claimed that his father could beat Calanon at board-racing…closer…and Eruestan said he needed to go someplace and don’t anybody move till he got back and his sister laughed at him…and Guilin showed up with Arthion and Turin, and Turin asked brightly if anything interesting was going on…closer…and Amaryllis said she couldn’t stand all this waiting much longer, she was going to lose her mind, and Little Iorhael said that happened a long time ago and she hit him and so did Silivren…and Frodo could see Sam peeking over the ship’s prow and he wondered if he should wave, then he put his eyeglass back on so he could see Sam’s expression…the sea-bell was clanging, the gulls were wheeling…

“SHE’S DROPPING ANCHOR!” squealed Amaryllis, as members of the crew could be seen taking hold of the capstan and the cable bearing the anchor began slipping little by little.  “Do you SEE???  They’re trimming sail…they’re heaving-to…”

“I can see Sam,” Lyrien whispered to Frodo, gripping his arm, at the same time glancing back to make sure her small son wasn’t getting trampled by the crowd, or pecked by gulls, or taking it into his head to run down the dock and throw himself into the water.  “That’s him peeking over the hull, isn’t it?”

Frodo nodded, in tremulous silence.  The crowd began singing again. 

And Sam’s eyes met his. 

~*~*~

Sam could not see what any of the crew were doing, and he feared they’d capsize the way the sails were flapping madly in the breeze, he hoped they knew what they were about…but the helm was a-lee, according to the Captain…who did indeed have a monkey, being the same Captain with whom Guilin and Raven had sailed so many years ago…although of course it was not the same monkey, but one of her descendants.  That critter had afforded Sam plenty of amusement throughout the voyage, once he got used to her, and he was profoundly grateful to her for that.  He didn’t know if he could have stood it otherwise.  She had curled up with him many a time below deck when he was napping. 

Now the monkey had climbed up on the hull beside Sam, and he reached up absently to pet her. 

“That’s ’im, lass,” he told her.  “The little ’un with the silver hair, see ’im?  That’s ‘is lady standin’ with him, or my name ain’t Samwise Gamgee.  I hope they don’t let him fall in the water.  That cold water won’t do ‘im no good at his age.  He’s got to be all of one ‘undred an’ fourteen years, or gettin’ on for it.  And here I am a hundred and two, meself.  And not likely to go much higher’n that.  My old Gaffer would have a fit if he could see me now.  He’d of said I never did have sense enough to get in out of the rain and now I’d proved it once and f’r all.  But I wish he could of lived to know of it.  Wouldn’t it of made him feel proud to have one son that sailed the seas?”

Mugs made a sympathetic chitter, brushing back a white curl behind Sam’s ear.  

“They say Mister Bilbo’s mum had a brother as went to sea,” Sam told her, “and he never did come back.  Some said that was Mister Gandalf’s doin’, but I never did take much stock in that.  Speakin’ of whom, I think that’s ‘im, standin’ near Mister Frodo.  See ‘im, the one in red?  Only his hair’s all black now, and he’s got no beard, but I can see it’s ‘im, just like in them dreams I sometimes used to have.  And he’s got no staff now.  Don’t need it no more, of course.  I wonder where HIS lady is.  Oh, I wish them folks wouldn’t crowd in so, they must be makin’ Mister Frodo nervous.  I know I would be, at his age, if they was a jostlin’ around me like that.  They’d ort to have more consideration, like.  But, at least we’re almost there.  And the sun’s behind a cloud so it ain’t so much in my eyes now.”

“I think she likes you as much as her master,” Lord Celeborn said as he came up behind Sam, who started at his voice.  “She won’t want to turn loose of you, I fear.”

Sam laughed a little.  “I’m right fond o’ her too,” he said, “and it won’t be no easier for me.  It’s nice not to be the only one on board with foot hair.  Or at least, it wouldn’t be easier to turn loose of her, but for Mister Frodo and meetin’ him again and all that.  Can you see him now, Lord Celeborn?”

Lord Celeborn, as it turned out, had seen sea-folk before.  A very long time ago, when crossing the Seas, he had seen some small people sunning themselves on some reefs, and had taken them to be victims of a ship-wreck and wished to stop and pick them up, but the captain had looked horrified at the very idea.  As Lord Celeborn had looked back at them, one of them, a female, smiled at him and waved.  He had never forgotten it….

And then he caught sight of his own Lady as she emerged from the crowd, and all else was forgotten….

~*~*~

The gangplank was being lowered. 

Elves were descending, some two by two…and then there was one who looked familiar, even after all these years…and with him, with him, was….

And the crowd began singing once more as two small figures came together in a tearful embrace that was as a thunder-clap in the harbor, and the little girls took hands once more and formed a ring all around them and began to move, but with more solemnity this time, like priestesses in a temple ceremony, and bells rang in all the towers unheeded, and Lord Celeborn embraced first his wife, then his daughter, and then his granddaughter, and then all three of them together…and Mugs jumped up and down on the bowsprit, screaming, then swung herself on the rigging and rejoined her master, perching on his shoulder and looking on with wondering little bright black eyes.

V. Sculpture

“Went within a year of each other, they did,” Sam said as they rode down the mill-stream road, Northlight driving the pony-cart with his mother sitting beside him up front.  Sam had brought but two bags, and he held another in his lap.  “Mister Merry met with an accident—nobody’s sure exactly what happened, since he was by hisself.  His pony must of got spooked and throwed him, or somethin’.  His skull was cracked, they said.  Them as found him said he must of died right then and there, never knew what happened.  I hope so, if it had to be at all.  Mister Pippin followed him about a year later.  He had a serious heart complaint, but he would of lasted longer, I think, if it hadn’t of been for Mister Merry goin' out like that.  I do understand it.”

“And that was how long ago?” Frodo asked.  He was not truly surprised.  He had seen Pippin in a dream many years ago, waving down to him from a very bright window, Merry's face just behind him, beckoning to him to come and join them.  He'd shaken his head, a little regretfully, and they looked at each other, laughed and disappeared, letting a curtain down gently over the window.  But the light still shone through.

“Um…about twenty years, I think,” Sam said.  “Maybe twenty-two.  I've got it wrote down somewhere, but my memory ain’t what it used to be.”

“Nor is mine,” Frodo said solemnly.  “So if I tell you something you already know, you’ll have to excuse me, Sam dear.  I’ll try not to be more tiresome than I must.”

Sam laid down the enormous bunch of flowers someone had given him, then picked up the soft cloth bag that lay in his lap and took out the doll and looked at it once more.

“It really does look like my Rosie,” he said softly.  “How could she of got her just right like that?”

“Lyrien has ever been a worker of miracles,” Frodo said smiling to himself.

~*~*~

“I think I wouldn’t of never made it across the Sea but for Lord Celeborn,” Sam said as they rode past the meadow, and even as he spoke he couldn’t help but take note of the flowers scattered far and wide, some of which he had never seen the like of before.  Gold-yellow, scarlet, blue, purple, white, pink, orange-colored…it was like a huge garden just flung out all over the place without a care.  And the butterflies that visited them just couldn’t be believed.  Beyond the meadow the mountains rose, craggy and green and blue and violet and silver, streaked with snow and mist and dark trees and strange rock formations dotted with moss and vines and patches of wild flowers, and yes, a waterfall here and there, just when you least expected it, as though it couldn’t handle all the splendor within and had to pour out some of it from time to time.  They crossed a bridge over a wide stream that hurried down from a hillside, full of the sun’s brightest bounty.

“I was ever a bit in awe of him,” Sam said, “but he was mighty good to me.  He had a plenty to tell.  Some of it was right interestin'.  Some of it weren’t.  But whether or no, he took good care of me, and the crossin' went much better'n it might of, but for him.  Then there was the monkey too.  It was awful nice of the Captain to let her spend so much time with me.  He was a right jolly chap, he was.  Had many a good story to tell, hisself, and he was right fond of ale, and brought a fine supply with him.  His name was, erm, Captain Avar…er…”

“Avarfaugando?” Northlight said over his shoulder.

“Aye, that’s the one,” Sam said happily.  “You know him, then?”

“He was the same Captain Guilin and Raven sailed with, wasn’t he, Ada?” Northlight said.

“Yes,” Frodo nodded.  “Now our Captain was named Orobar.  He sailed with the Numenorian explorer Phâzzor—or as he was known to the Elves, Telpemar.  It was Telpemar who brought pipe-weed to Middle-earth, you know.”

“Was it now?” Sam said with a soft whistle.

“Among other things,” Frodo said, “such as potatoes, turnips, onions, pumpkins, tomatoes, and several varieties of peppers and spices.  I’d read something of Phâzzor when I was a lad, but was never able to find out much about him.  I suppose he wasn’t thought highly of in the Shire, being an explorer and all, despite all the goodies he brought into it.  Sad to say, I nearly forgot him myself, or I could have looked up something of him on my travels.”

“Somehow that don’t surprise me,” Sam said.  “Him being thought not highly of, that is, even after all he brought to us and everything.”

“Captain Orobar still sails the seas,” Frodo said.  “It’s in his blood.  Every so often he brings us things he picks up here and yon.  I’ll show them to you.  They’re most amazing…although some may shock you.  There is a land where the sculptors carve their gods in the nude.  Imagine how outraged the Valar would be to be represented thus!”

“I should think so,” Sam exclaimed.  “The idea!  He didn’t bring aught to you, did he?  If he did, I should hope you’d of had some clothes made for ‘em…or somethin’.”

“He didn’t,” Frodo chuckled.  “But Annûnlanthir, who knows him also, did carve a little nude figure of Nimrodel as a gift for Legolas, after hearing Phâzzor tell of those statues.  I doubt Legolas ever shows it to anyone.  I never saw it, myself.”

“I posed as Nimrodel once,” Anemone said smiling, “for Amonost.  He is Annûnlanthir’s grandson, and he married my daughter Gloryfall.  Oh, I wore a gown, of course,” she laughed gently at Sam’s horrified expression.  “It graces a grotto in the Queen’s Palace. It's scarcely like the statue of Frodo and me in the park, but reasonably respectable, for all that.”

They had paused at the Park to show Sam the sculpture of Frodo and Anemone that Annûnlanthir had made with Anemone in her bridal gown (“that was when I could still get into it,” she’d joked) and Frodo in his wedding attire also, mounted on a block of rosy marble.  And there were words carved on each side of the pedestal.  Frodo bent and read the first of the lines aloud:

Go, blessed pair, and seek the realm of music....

And before he could move to the next side, Sam had sung: 

Dwell in the Light that beams upon your bliss;
Climb the bright stairway into the clouds of wonder
Long may you know the joy that springs from each kiss.

And they all sang together:

Fair are the Children who grace this verdant Islet
Gracious the Beings that heal us of our blight
Glorious the One who spreads it all before us
Blessing our pathway with peace and eternal Light.

“I know that one like I'd wrote it myself,” Sam said as Frodo just stood half-smiling at him in wonder.  “How could I not, when you sung it to me every year of my and Rosie's wedding anniversary?  And I sang it on yours, though I don't know if you heard me or not.  Maybe I haven't such a fine voice as you, Mister Frodo, but sing it I did, and no mistaking.”

“I did hear you,” Frodo said huskily.  And they climbed back into the cart and went on their way.

Anemone had asked, earlier, if it would be all right to ask Sam if he had heard any word of Greenjade, her eldest son, formerly known as Darkfin.  Frodo said of course it would be, but he asked her please not to ask right away, but wait until the time was right.  He hoped now that she would wait a little longer, although he was curious, himself, and he knew she must be greatly longing to ask.  But he didn’t want Sam to be too much overwhelmed when he had just arrived.

She was looking up softly at Sam now from under her hat-brim, and Frodo feared what she would say to him, and he almost mouthed the words Not yet, but hesitated, remembering the way Sam had looked at her at the harbor when they were introduced.  Not as though he were falling in love with her—although it was not wholly unlike that—but more as though he were recognizing a space of luminous continuity, a portal that stood open to a world of which he was only dimly aware, if at all.  And she looked at him as though she, too, had opened a door to a life that had once been, and still was, if only in memory.  And she looked back at Sam now with that same look, and he hoped she would ask what she wished to ask, but for Sam’s sake, not yet, not just yet….

And finally she spoke.

“Sam, we are so glad you are here at last,” she said simply.

~*~*~

The cottage was just as Sam pictured it…but the cove was something else again.  It looked the perfect place for Mister Frodo and his missus to live.  There was something dream-like and pure and far-off about the whole of it, as though it were a place out of time, that couldn’t be touched, and might vanish if you breathed on it too hard, like a film of mist on a mirror.  You wanted to fill all your eyes and ears with it, all your senses, far as that went, to take as much with you as you could, and yet you couldn’t own it, for it was cupped in the Divine, and you could only let it sink softly into the silence of your being, before you fell into it yourself, to rest there in complete accord with everything that was musical and liquid and bright. 

Or did it only look so in the still of evening, with the clouds on the rim of the sea all splashed with gold and fire and silver, the sun peering out like a king getting ready for bed? 

“This is your room,” Northlight told him, as he brought in the two bags Sam had taken with him to the guest-room.   Sam looked at Northlight in slow wonder.  This was Mister Frodo’s son then, or one of them.  He looked a part of the cove also, as though he had somehow sprung from it, was the spirit of it perhaps.   

“If you like, you may take the room that used to be Raven’s,” Anemone told Sam.  “This one was made for big folk.  Hers may suit you better, although it’s much more feminine.”

Sam hardly knew what to say to that.  “This one will do me fine,” he stammered. And, on a thought, he took the Rosie-doll from the bag and set it on the pillow.  “That’s all it needed,” he told the others, who smiled softly all around.

~*~*~

The home of Northlight and Raven, on the other side of the bridge that went over the stream formed by the falls, was larger than the cottage, and built in a different style.  It was more like two boxes, one set on top of the other, built from white stone, with columns holding up some of it, and windows with rounded tops and dark-green shutters, and boxes of flowers in them.  The terrace was much wider—it went from the front to the side of the house, and the gardens nearly blocked it from view.  And there were wide stairs on one end that went up to the second story and up to the roof, with a pretty wrought-iron rail on them, and candles all about, so it all appeared to be full of stars.  There were many folks already there, including little Miss Amaryllis, who linked her arm in with his, on the other side from Mister Frodo—she was not shy, to be sure, but she seemed so pleased he was there, he couldn’t take exception to her boldness.

“Wait until you see the big dinner,” she said breathily with a little skip.  “You are going to be soooo surprised!” 

Mister Frodo just grinned.  Then gasped, as they went up the front steps to the terrace where two long tables were pushed together.  And Sam gasped also.  For there on the tables, and everywhere, were flowers of the sort that didn’t grow in any garden he had ever seen…at least, not in the state they were in now.  There were watermelons that had been cut and carved into huge red roses, and more melons and fruits and vegetables carved into roses and lilies and lotus blooms, and orchids and irises, and some cut into the shape of birds and small animals and butterflies, some of them sitting on little tables set about, with more foods steaming on them, and some sculpted into little people, some of them dancers, some babies, some fairies, some of the carvings done right into the rinds of the melons…and there was a very large one into which was carved WELCOME DEAR SAMWISE in beautiful curly letters, with graceful flourishes all about.  And candles all among them, tall ones, short fat ones, in all colors, some floating in bowls of water.  Speechless, Sam glanced about and saw that Mister Frodo was as surprised as he was.  And even Miss Amaryllis, who was staring open-mouthed, her lovely big eyes fairly popping out of her head.   

And a lady wearing a pale-green gown and a white flower or two in her red-gold hair stepped forward and dropped him a little curtsey, saying, “Greetings, dear Sam, please sit here and be comfortable.  It is such a great honor to have you here among us at last!”

VI. What the Aurora Heard

Sam didn't think anything could have surprised him after that...but right before his eyes, eight maidens were coming down the stairway that wound down to the terrace, looking much like the same girl at different ages, from the smallest to the tallest, each with that floaty hair as white as his own, that would have looked strange and unnatural on a hobbit-lass perhaps, but somehow didn't look a bit odd on these....Each wore a gown of a different color, each carrying flowers that matched the gowns. 

Sam had an idea who they were already, Frodo having told him that one of the grandchildren had produced a family of eight lasses, all with gem-names.

"I am Amethyst," piped up the smallest, who wore a purple dress and was a bit shorter than himself, and she dropped a little curtsey and presented him with a little cluster of violets.  "Please welcome." 

"Thank you, my lass," he said most graciously, bowing his head to her with a smile. 

"I'm glad you have white hair too," she whispered to him just before giving way to the next sister, who was in amber-colored velvet.

"Topaz, at your service, my Lord," she said, with a somewhat more dramatic curtsey, handing him a golden lily.  He grinned widely.  And she whispered to him, glancing around, "The floaty candles were my idea!"

The next was all in white.  "I'm Pearl," she said, handing him a pure white camellia.  "I apologize for the loss that brought you here to us.  But I hope you enjoy your stay."

"I am Garnet," said the next, who was in crimson velvet, and she gave him a cluster of rosebuds.  "I was going to say something else, but I don't remember now," she giggled.

"My name is Emerald," said the next, all in green, laying a branch of yellow frangipani in his hand.  "This is the closest to a green flower I could find.  I hope it is all right."

"I'm Sapphire," said a young lady all in blue, and her offering was a bunch of blue pansies.  "And I think you are just too sweet!" she giggled as she pecked at his cheek.

"Ruby is my name," said the next one who was clad in scarlet, presenting a full-blown rose, lowering her eyelashes demurely.  "Great-granddad says you have a Ruby also.  I am most honored."

The biggest, who was quite a young lady, wore a gown of cream-colored silk with glints of gold and rose in it, and she gave him a rose of creamy white with a tinge of pink in the middle.  "I'm Opal, the eldest," she said with friendly dignity.  "And I wish to bid you hearty welcome, and hope that your stay will bring you the greatest joy." 

But that was not all--another pale-haired lady came just after, in pale pink with a silvery cast to it, and she held a bouquet of roses of almost the same shade as her gown.

"I am Sandrose, the mother of those eight lasses," she said smiling, "and I hope they do not annoy you too much.  We wish to thank you for all you have been to our Granddad, and for making it possible for him to be with us now.  He has brought so much joy to us all, and he says he owes it all to you.  And this is Jasper, my mate and the father of my lasses."  She presented a fellow with hair the same white as the rest.

"What a wonderful family you have, my lady," Sam said as Jasper solemnly inclined his head.  "And not to worry, I don't reckon they could annoy me even if they wanted to.  And their names are most fittin', I must say."  This produced giggles from some of the girls, who stood now four in front and four in back. 

"Thank you," Sandrose said with a sweet dimply smile.  "And now they would like to sing a song for you.  It was written by Opal and Ruby, if I'm not mistaken."

"I made one line," Amethyst spoke up.  The other sisters giggled again, and then settled themselves, and Jasper gave them the pitch, and they all began to sing:

Welcome Samwise to our Isle
We are most pleased to meet you
Long have we awaited this fine day
And with this song to greet you.

If there is something you should need
Only ask, and it shall be given
Naught is too good for our hero
Who evil from our land has driven!

We're thrilled that you are here at last
Joined with your heart's treasure
To see you both united thus
Doth give us purest pleasure.

May flowers spring up from your path
Where'er your steps do fall
May you have joy for all your days
With sunlight over all.

Welcome Samwise to our home
We hope you'll love your stay
Our true friend forever more
Now and for alway!

~*~*~

"Those are too beautiful to eat," Sam remarked when at last Mistress Tilwen approached one of the melon-roses with a knife.  Moonrise and Amonost had done the carving, of course.  Amaryllis had been a little miffed that she hadn't known of it, even though she had helped decorate the table and the stair-rail wth real flowers, and that she hadn't been included in the song.  Her mum told her she might dance for Sam later on, and she was somewhat placated.  Sam perked up his ears.  It would be nice to see Raven dance.  She was beautiful even for an elf, and Mister Frodo said she danced at the theater, having been taught by one of the most famous dancers in the West, Ailenalqua.  Mister Frodo was most proud of her, that was plain.

"True, but they won't last even if we don't eat them," Tilwen said smiling.  Sam was certain that she was his favorite of all Mister Frodo's friends here, with the possible exception of Lyrien.  "So we may as well have that enjoyment.  Have you ever tasted this kind of melon, Sam?"

"No ma'am, and I've been longing to try it for the longest.  They don't grow where I live...or used to live." 

She cut a large rose out of one of the melons and carefully set it on a plate.  "They're very juicy, so have a care," she said.  "But if it should dribble on you, don't mind it.  I promise you we will neither faint, shriek, nor talk behind your back."

He laughed and then, a bit self-consciously since he could see the others were awaiting his reaction, took a bite.  No doubt about it, this was juicy...and most cold and sweet, and not at all hard on the teeth (seeing as how he no longer had all he once had).  A smile broke over his features which he could feel himself.

"This was well worth crossing the Seas for," he pronounced, and the folk outshone the candles with their smiles. 

"I can scarcely argue with that," Frodo said. 

~*~*~

Raven didn't dance on eggs, for she had not done that since she was a little girl.  This time, she danced with candles.

Some of the others placed stumpy candles here and there in the sand, for they had gathered at the beach.  It was nearly nightfall--dusk lingered long out here and no mistaking.  The fellows had built a fire, for the nights could get cold here, even in the summer.  And there in the northern sky, were those colored lights Mister Frodo had spoken of so often.  Green and blue and scarlet and gold and violet and silver, some streaky, some soft cloudy puffs, some of them upward beams, some downward ones, some just wide sheets of color, all shifting and swirling about very slowly.  You could go into a deep trance just watching them.  

But even as fine as they were, he forgot them when Raven appeared.  She had changed from the dark red gown she had been wearing into a shorter one of a pale blue-green color, with scarves of red and gold and purple dangling from her waist and her bare arms, and she had a band of gem-stones about her head, her hair hanging dark and loose all about her instead of braided like it had been.   And bracelets on her wrists.  And a soft light came from within her, pale rosy gold it was, her eyes dark gems in the gold skin of her face.  She was the aurora itself, in human form.

Music began to play from flute and drum and a harp of some sort, simple and rhythmic, and she began to dance among the candles, her skirt whirling out wide all around to reveal more skirts beneath, thin and filmy ones, her bracelets going ching-ching on her arms, which moved with unbelievable grace all around, her hair fanning out as she spun and leaped among the flickering lights.  The sky-colors seemed to be moving with her, following her movements, and music seemed to be coming out of the sky, not the music she was dancing to, but it didn't interfere with it at all, and the sea seemed to be holding still, watching.  The music grew faster, sounding strange and foreign, yet wonderful, and Raven danced as one doing what she was born to do, and Sam wouldn't have been surprised to see her bound off into the sky.  He had never seen such dancing...it was a little frightening, at the first.  Or would have been, had Mister Frodo not been so good at describing things so he could see them in his mind.  Even so, seeing it firsthand was a whole different matter.  He felt that he was at a link between this world and the next, standing on the bridge itself, and that he was privileged in a way few mortals ever are, and it seemed unfair to the others somehow, and yet, he knew, this was what he had earned.  At one point he found his lips moving, and he knew that he was saying "thank you" under his breath, over and over, giving thanks not only for the privilege he had been granted, but also for what Mister Frodo had been given, and for the light in his face as he sat watching, with one arm around Sam and the other around Anemone. 

That was definitely well worth crossing the Seas for.

VII. Radiance

“So that’s the Beacon, is it, Mister Frodo?”

“Yes, Sam.  It looks even brighter tonight.  And what will it take to get you to drop the ‘Mister’?”

“Sorry, M—erm, Frodo.  But the older a habit is, the tougher it is—like the meat on old chickens.  But I will try to drop it, since you don’t like it….And the stars are even bigger and beautifuller out here than in Rivendell, they are.  They’re like the lanterns in the old party-tree, I feel like I could reach up and pick one like an apple.  I s’pose it’s because the Star-kindler is so closer by, attending on all her children.  And the colors are still there, dancing amongst them.” 

Anemone had said she would stay with Northlight and Raven tonight, so that the hobbits might spend their first night on the Island alone with each other.  But they heard Raven, who had come after the dinner party to help mix the evening draughts, speaking softly to her inside the house, “Nana, I think someone should stay here with them in case they should have an accident or something.”  And Anemone said, “Perhaps you are right.”  And she came out with a thick blanket, and spread it over the two hobbits who were both settled into the one long chair, saying, “You may need this.  It gets a bit chilly sometimes at night.  Are you sure you don’t wish to sleep in the guest-room tonight?”

They assured her they would be all right, and thanked her for the blanket.  She said she was tired and would turn in now, and kissed both, Frodo on the lips and Sam on the cheek, before going back inside.

Amaryllis came out with something behind her back, and said, “I thought you might like to have this,” setting the Rosie-doll between them.  Sam smiled up at her.

“Thanks so much, miss,” he said.  “That will be just the thing.  And might I say once more, I really enjoyed your song and your dance tonight.”

“Thank you,” the girl said, putting her hands behind her back in a show of modesty.  “I’m not so good as my mum, but I do like to dance.  And I was happy to sing for you, but I didn’t write the song.  It was just a silly old one I like.”

“Well, I think you were just fine.  And your voice is wondrous fair.  Which was that little girl playin’ the harp again?”

“That was my cousin Éowyn.  Do you know she plays six instruments?  And she’s younger than I am—she’s a mere child.”

“She’s a very gifted mere child,” Frodo said with a little chuckle.

“My father taught her to play the flute,” Amaryllis said as she pulled up a chair and perched daintily on it.  “She's madly in love with Arasirion—Olórin’s son.  She’s going to marry him when she grows up, she says.”

Sam chuckled.  “Does he know it yet?”

“Probably, the way she’s always gazing at him and all.  But I told her he’s likely got every other maiden on the entire Island daft over him, so she’d better not get her hopes up.  I told her she’s too young to be thinking of boys anyway.  Why get old before your time?”

“Really, why?” Frodo agreed, thoughtfully.

“It’s hard to believe Mister Gandalf has a son,” Sam said.  “It’s like he’s gone backwards in time, ’stead of forwards.”

“I would think he would have more than one,” Amaryllis said.  “I think his wife is one of the most beautiful ladies on the Island.  Do you know she was once a queen, and now she’s a horse-healer?”

“Is she now?” Sam knew this, but decided not to let on.  What a lovely lass, he thought.  Her face had a pale radiance against the ripply dark hair, her eyes huge and starry, her figure thin and graceful, her long slim fingers lightly playing with each other in her lap as she sat on the edge of her chair with her head just a little forward of the rest of her.  There was life in her, fresh and sunlit and fragrant, edged in clover, forever in bloom.

“Yes.  She can just look a horse in the eye and know what’s wrong with him, and she can just talk him out of being sick.  She was with Shadowfax when he died.  He lived a longggg time, almost a hundred years, Olórin said.  He had his head in her lap and everything, Shadowfax did, when he died, and she was singing to him.”

“He must of gone out happy then,” Sam said smiling.

“Galendur owns one of his descendants now,” Frodo said.  “His dam was Shadowfax’s first filly on the Island, Silverdance.  She still lives now.  And his sire was a horse sired by Nightwind.  It was so hard for Galendur to lose Nightwind.  His grief was downright frightening, almost as if he had lost one of his own children.  But it's nice that Nightwind and Shadowfax ended their days in friendship with each other.”

He spoke as though thinking aloud, wondering if it were so hard for Galendur to lose his beloved stallion to the inevitability of old age, how much harder would it be for him to lose his closest friend?

“Éowyn is welcome to Arasirion,” Amaryllis said after a moment.  “He’s very beautiful, I suppose, but I’ve no interest in lads.  I consider them a big nuisance.”

“You’ll think different one of these days,” Sam assured her smiling.

“I haven’t the impression,” Frodo said to her, “that you find Little Iorhael such a nuisance as all that?”

“Piffle,” Amaryllis tossed her head, but it seemed to Sam her cheeks pinked a bit.  “He's only Silivren's brother, as far as I'm concerned.”

“And then there’s Eruestan,” Frodo said.  “I think he rather fancies you, myself.”

“Eruestan?  Ha!  He’s only a little boy.”

“Not so much younger than you,” Frodo laughed.  “And you’re fond of his sisters, surely?”

“I adore the ground Lyrien walks on,” Amaryllis said, “and Castiel is my bosom friend after Silivren, but as for their little brother?  Ugh, ugh, ugh.  I would sooner marry a troll.”  She gave an elaborate shudder.

“Of course you would,” Raven said laughing, coming out onto the terrace after seeing her mother to bed, “Come, my little loveliness, it’s time we were hastening back, and let these two get some sleep.  I’m sure they’ve had a long day, and need their rest.”

“Mayn’t I stay here tonight, mummy?” Amaryllis pleaded.  “I can sleep in the room that used to be yours.  I simply love that room, it has such an atmosphere.”

“No no no,” Raven said, reaching over to caress her daughter’s curly hair.  “You would sit here and talk them to death well into the night, if we gave you half a chance.  You may come here tomorrow morning with me if you like, but now we must be getting back.”  She smiled down at Sam.  “This one would talk all night long if you let her.  But I shall try not to let her wear you out.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, my lady,” Sam said.  “She’s most interesting, she is.  And some of mine was talkers also.  ’Specially Goldilocks.  She could talk water uphill, as her grandmum used to say.”

“Goldilocks,” Amaryllis giggled at the thought of anyone talking water uphill.  She would have to remember that one for her friends.

“That was after Glorfindel,” Frodo said, “whose name means, well, Goldilocks.”

“Beggin’ your pardon sir—maybe it does mean that, but it was after my sister Marigold,” Sam said.  “That was her right name, Marigold.  But folks started callin’ her Goldy or Goldilocks when she was a little un—in part for her hair, and in part to keep from confusin’ her with her auntie.  And I was considerable of a chatter-box meself when I was a little un—ask Mist—erm, Frodo, if I weren't.  My old Gaffer used to say my tongue was hinged in the middle and swung both ways.”

“I was named for my great-aunt,” Amaryllis said as she stood up.  “My granddad’s baby sister.  I think it was an enormous honor for me.”  And she bent and kissed both hobbits on the forehead with infinite care and grace.

As Raven and Amaryllis made their way in the night toward the bridge, the hobbits heard the girl say, “Mummy, he said I was interesting!  No one ever said that of me before!”  and they looked at each other with broad grins.

“I was proud of you tonight,” Frodo said when the others were out of sight.  “Well, of course I’ve always been proud of you, but tonight...I was a little worried that you would be made uncomfortable and embarrassed by such a crowd, but you held your own with such poise and grace, I must admit I was surprised, although perhaps I shouldn't have been.  Small wonder you were elected so many terms.”

Sam held the Rosie-doll and looked at it in abashment at the praise, which he did not expect, and could still overwhelm him coming from Mister Frodo as it could from no one else.

“They made me feel so welcome,” he said, absently fingering the springy woolen yellow curls.  “I was half worried they’d think I was comin’ to take you away from ‘em.  To be truthful, M—Frodo, I was somewhat hopin’, on the ship and all, that you’d be ready to go soon, and I’d go with you.  But now I’m here, I feel like stayin’ for a while, that is, if you do.  Seems this place is gettin’ itself into my bones already, just like you said.”

“I wish to stay for a while also,” Frodo said.  “I feel as though twenty years fell from me when you stepped off that ship.  And don’t you realize that I stayed as long as I did because I knew you would come?  Because of you, I lived longer than I otherwise would have.  They have you to thank for that.”

“I’m glad of that.  If I should go before you, I don’t ask for you to follow me.  I can wait.  But whenever you’re ready, I’ll go too.  Just say the word.”

“I’m glad you’re with me, Samwise Gamgee,” Frodo said slipping an arm under Sam’s shoulders and drawing him close.  “I’m so glad you’re with me…” He almost said, “Here at the end of all things,” but hesitated.  Yes…it was, or would be soon, the end of all things as he knew them.  Even though he had glimpsed what lay ahead, the prospect of leaving all he knew behind him began to look disturbingly real.  Not that he feared what was beyond, but rather what he was leaving behind him.  The Beacon...would it continue to burn, there on the little hill above the shore, throughout the ages, or would it diminish little by little, until an age later it burnt itself out, weary with shining for those who forgot to look in its direction, leaving the Island drifting in eternal twilight once more, as Gandalf feared it would? 

Do not let it go out, he prayed silently.  Let it be a light when all other lights go out, keeping all evils and terrors at bay.  Let it be as a candle that lights other candles, and keep on lighting as many as need it....

And he remembered something, and withdrew from his breast-pocket the Star-glass, and spoke the words to light it, and set it on the small table on Sam's side of the long chair.  Sam, whose eyelids had been drooping, lifted his head from Frodo's shoulder and turned to look at it.  His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came from them.

“Good night, Sam,” Frodo said as he drew his dearest friend's head to his shoulder once more and laid his cheek on top of the white curls.

 VIII. Pain

Sam awoke with a groan, and slowly opened his eyes to see a mist veiling the gentle first light of the morning, and his former master curled by his side on the cushioned long chair under a thick blanket.  A sweet fragrance rode the mist, but Sam’s leg hurt too much for him to even take much notice of it.  From the hip to the ankle was one dull, throbbing ache, and he couldn’t bend either hip or knee…and nature was calling. 

If he could just get up…but it was his left leg that hurt, and Mister Frodo was on his right side, and Sam didn’t like to wake him.  But it looked like there was nothing for it.  He couldn’t get hisself up, and he’d wet hisself before long if he didn’t….

Maybe he shouldn’t of come, he thought with a huge sigh.  What with his leg and all…he’d be puttin’ the others out taking care of him.  Thing was, he hadn’t expected to be around for so long.  But after last night he’d found himself wanting to stay.  Just a few hours he’d been here, and already the Island had a hold on him.  But now…

Well.  He’d have to wake Mister Frodo, like it or not.  And he looked so peaceful, with his head on one side, looking younger than anybody else would of had any business to look at his age…Sam almost thought he was dreaming last night, that he was here at last…and now, his leg was reminding him that he was wide awake, indeed, and his bladder was agreeing, and if he didn’t do something soon, he’d be in a bad way and no mistakin’….

Say what you would, old age was not a pretty thing, and that you could tie to.

His hand clamped on Mister Frodo’s shoulder, shaking him ever so gently, then more insistently, whispering his name. 

“Sam?”  Mister Frodo’s eyes fluttered open, and looked up at Sam just as innocent, smiling and delighted to see him there, then full of concern, as he raised himself up on one elbow, reaching up to brush a silver curl or two off his forehead. 

“I’m sorry to wake you, M—Frodo, but I can’t seem to get myself up, and I need to use the privy bad,” Sam said.  “And my leg, it’s really hurtin’, I can’t bend it at the knee or the hip or anywhere else for that matter, and…”

“Let me help you,” Frodo said, and he got himself up, a bit stiffly to be sure, then hobbled to Sam’s side of the long chair.  “Just give me your arm, and…yes, like that.  We don’t have to go all the way back to the privy, you can just do it off the side of the terrace.  There’s no one else to see, and it won’t harm the flowers any.”

He helped Sam to the rail and stood behind him, supporting him under the arms while Sam did what he must, then assisting him back to the chair.  Then he said that he must do the same, and when that was accomplished, he turned his head asking, as he buttoned up, “So, did you sleep well last night, Sam?”

“Yes sir, I did.  But my leg, it’s a hurtin’ somethin’ awful now.  Lord Celeborn used to make a kind of tea that helped it something wonderful, and…”

“Yes, I know that tea.  Raven will be here to brew it for you soon…I hear Anemone in the kitchen now.  She’s heating up the water already.  But an Elf must do the actual brewing.”

“It’s awful early for Raven to be here yet, isn’t it?”

“Yes…but she’ll come if I summon her.  In the meantime, I know of something that will help it until she gets here.  We’ll have to go indoors, for it will involve some undressing.”

Anemone appeared in the doorway, in her dressing-gown, smiling, asking if they had passed a pleasant night.  Frodo explained the situation to her, and she helped him assist Sam into the house and to the guest-room.  Then she left and came back with an earthen jar, which she set on the little table beside the bed, and went out again, closing the door behind her.  Frodo helped Sam off with his breeches and underdrawers, then opened the clay jar while Sam discreetly arranged his shirt-tail over his belly and groin area. 

“I know that smell,” he said as Frodo dipped his fingers into the balm and smoothed it over Sam’s leg. 

“I was certain you would remember it,” the older hobbit said smiling.  “And we have dozens of jars of it on hand, so you needn’t fear we will run out.  This is most useful stuff, and Lady Celebrían keeps us well supplied.”

“It feels better already,” Sam said as he pulled his drawers back on, and Frodo picked up his breeches to assist him.  “I don't know how to thank you for this.  But my knee is still a mite stiff.  If you could help me stand…I don’t like to ask it of you, but…”

“Of course.  Just let me wipe my hand—there.  Now, let me help you up…” 

But it was no easy matter trying to pull stout Sam to his feet, and Sam told him to take it easy, fearing his friend would hurt himself. 

“Maybe if I wait a few minutes my leg will loosen up,” he said.  “I should change clothes anyway, these are wrinkled somethin’ terrible.  It wouldn’t do to go to breakfast lookin’ so much like somethin’ the cat drug in.”

“You could just put your dressing-gown over it, Sam.  We don’t stand on formality here.  Wait, I hear Northlight.  Will you mind it if I ask him to help us change clothes?  Anemone helps me usually.  I can dress myself if I really must, but it goes much faster when she helps me.”

“No, I won’t mind it.”

Sam could hear Raven and Amaryllis in the kitchen along with Northlight, and felt relieved and profoundly grateful.  Northlight came in smiling, and asked Sam if he had slept well.

“I shall be your attendant,” he said as he helped Sam to dress, “for as long as you care to stay with us.”

“My attendant!” Sam exclaimed.  “Now that I wasn’t expectin’.  But I don’t like to put you out any,” he stammered.  “I mean…I know you care for M—Frodo’s lands and all.  I—”

“My brothers and nephews will see to that,” Northlight said.  He seemed different in the daytime, more down to earth and real somehow.  He had the sort of sharp features Mister Frodo had, his large intelligent eyes the same shade of blue and a slight cleft in his pointed chin.  But for his strange pale hair, he could almost have passed for Mister Frodo’s son by blood, Sam thought.  “As for putting me out, I shall be most honored to serve you for the rest of your days.  We all owe you much, and I already feel as if I know you.”

“Same here, Mister…Northlight,” Sam said, quite taken aback.

“Just Northlight,” said Mister Frodo’s son with the sweet, grave smile Sam had seen at times in his dreams, as he carefully drew a brush through Sam’s tangled white curls.  “There now.  Lean on me, and put your hand on my shoulder, like this…”

When they repaired into the kitchen, Amaryllis threw her arms around her granddad and gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek, then did the same to Sam as if she had known him all her life.  The tea was already brewing.  Sam gasped a little at the sight of Raven.  She wore a white blouse that showed her collar-bone, and had sleeves that stopped short of her elbows, with beautiful lace adorning them, and her skirt was black with a design of red and gold flowers embroidered around the hem, looped up on one side to show her ankles and feet, which were in black slippers.  Her dark hair was pulled back with gold ribbon to reveal gold hoop earrings.  She was small for an elf-lady, not so tall as Northlight, who was but about five and a half feet.

Anemone, by contrast, wore a simple and pretty pink gown, her gold hair in a thick coiled braid.  Northlight drew out a chair at the kitchen dining-table for her, motioning for her to sit, while Raven poured out tea for all.

“What color roses do you like best, Mister Gamgee?” Amaryllis asked him.  She was dressed similar to her mum, though her skirt was much shorter, just to her knees, and her hair was in two braids.  “My mother likes red best, and my father likes white, my grandmum likes yellow and so does granddad.  I love pink best, myself.  When my mum was a little girl she used to put a rose at everyone’s plate, in the colors they liked best, and I’d like to do so too, now you’re here.”

“Why…I’m not real sure, miss,” Sam said.  “I tell you what, you pick a color for me, and I’ll like it no matter what it is.”

Amaryllis flurried out the door, and returned with a rose in a vivid orange.  “Will this do?” she asked, a little anxiously it seemed.

“Perfect,” Sam said smiling.  And kissed her hand as she presented it to him.

“I passionately love roses,” she said.  “I’ve a feeling you and I are going to get on just splendidly.”

“How is your tea, Sam?” Raven asked him.  “Is it hot and sweet enough?”

“It’s perfect, my lady.  And I do thank you brewin’ it for me.  I can already feel it takin’ effect.  And them sweet buns…they smell right delicious.”

“There are plenty,” Anemone said, “so take all you wish.”  She took them up with a spatula and put them into a basket lined with a napkin, and set the basket in the middle of the table.  Raven put a bun on everyone’s plate with a pair of tongs.

“My lady,” Sam said to Anemone, “I do wish to thank you for lettin’ me have Mister Frodo to myself last night.  That was most kind of you.”

Amaryllis stifled a giggle.  Anemone smiled.  So did Mister Frodo.

“You may have him any night you please,” Anemone said as she took a plate of eggs from Raven.  “I do not mind sharing him if it’s with you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t ask that of you, my lady,” Sam said.  “Maybe just…once a week maybe?”

“How about twice a week?” she said with twinkling eyes.  

“Oh, that’s most generous of you,” Sam said in profound gratitude.  “Mist—I mean, Frodo, is that all right with you?”

“That’s more than all right,” Frodo said smiling first at his lady and at Sam.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” exclaimed Amaryllis, jumping up so suddenly her chair fell clattering over in back, and she ran to the counter and took something covered in a white cloth, as Northlight, grinning, bent to retrieve her chair.  “I saved it from last night.  Uncle Moonrise made it for me--see, it has my name and my flower on it--but I wish for you to have it...Sam.”

It was one of the melons, a small one, carved into an amaryllis, to be sure.

“Everyone is so good to me,” Sam said, his throat choking up all of a sudden.

~*~*~

After breakfast Anemone announced that the Midsummer Faire would take place on this day, in celebration of Sam's arrival, and they could all go in the afternoon.  She and Frodo would go and bathe now, while Raven and Amaryllis cleaned up in the kitchen, and Northlight could show Sam the garden, then they could go bathe, if that would be all right with everyone.  Raven had her hands full with keeping Amaryllis with her, telling her she was to stay in and help clear up and not bother Sam with questions and chatter until after the baths.

The mist had lifted, and now that Sam could bend his leg-joints and they didn’t hurt now, he saw the garden for the first time in daylight.  Northlight and his brothers and sisters had made it magnificent for their parents to enjoy in their latter years, and also in anticipation of Sam’s coming.  There were willows flanking the little stream that ran under the springhouse, and rose-trees, and hibiscus bushes, and flowers of every color and height and size and shape, artistically and tastefully arranged all about the house, with a wide stone path rambling through, small statuary all about, and bird-houses, and wind-chimes, and little wrought-iron benches here and there, and some swings and see-saws and a water-slide for the little uns…it was like a little park of itself.  And the gazebo and the fountain out front, and yet more flowers, and a little grotto near the falls with a small bridge arching in front it of, with little lamp-globes on it to light at night.  An air of love and enchantment and joy hung over all, tangible as the bird-song that echoed from the cliffs, the trickle of the fountain waters and the rushing of the falls, and the sun-kissed fragrance of the roses and frangipani and wisteria and jasmine all about.

“And you did all this?” Sam said as Northlight led him to one of the benches and assisted him to sit on it.  “I don’t think me or my old Gaffer could of improved on it.”

“Well, my Ada passed a good bit of what he learned from you to me,” Northlight said smiling.  “And he made some of these bird-houses.  See how they are made of clay, with little mosaic-works on them?  I doubt that any birds ever had such homes.  He decorated some of the paving-stones also.  See those star-burst designs, made of glass and mother-of-pearl and marble and quartz?  When the torches are lit at night, the stones fairly glitter at our feet.  And look here.  He made this design in honor of the peacock we had, when he first came to live here.  We never had another, after that one passed on.  But we had this circle of mosaic.”

“Amazin’, it is,” Sam said in total awe.  Mister Frodo had described all this to him, but seeing it all before him was another matter.  He glanced over his shoulder toward the little bath-house out back of the cottage.  He could hear soft laughter coming from within.

Northlight smiled.  “So you truly were able to hear him through his star-glass?” he said with raised silvery eyebrows.

“Oh yes,” Sam said.  “I don’t know what I’d of done if I hadn’t.  It was that good to know how he was doin’ and all.  I only wish I’d had a glass of my own so’s I could of kept him posted as to what was goin’ on with me and mine also.  And he certainly told me plenty about you.” 

“Did he?” Northlight looked greatly pleased and a little surprised.  “I hope he didn’t bore you half to death on that score.  I’m really rather a dull chap.”

Sam gave a startled laugh.  “Not to him, you’re not. He’s that proud of you, he is.”

“I’m glad of that,” Northlight said, and sobered.  “Did he ever tell you…what happened to me, about forty-odd years ago?  The incident near the mill?”

“Aye…he told me,” Sam said, “although…not much when it happened.  It wasn’t till long after that he told me all.  It was that hard for him, and I don’t wonder.”

“I’m glad he was finally able to tell you,” Northlight said.  “It was a terrible thing for all of us, but what it did to him…I still don’t like to think of it.  I’m glad he got past it.  If he did.” 

“I think he did,” Sam said, “and…and I don’t wonder that he’s proud of you, neither.”

The door of the bath-house opened, and Frodo and Anemone emerged, in dressing-gowns, Frodo running his fingers through his wet hair.  Northlight waved to them.

“I believe they are finished,” he said to Sam, rising and extending a hand.  “Shall we?” 

His tone was cheery enough, but it seemed to Sam that a bit of the light had gone from his face.

~*~*~

“Ionwë had never forgiven me for that fountain trick,” Northlight explained as he soaped Sam’s hair, Sam glancing away from the little nude bronze boy that stood on one side of it, glad of the fragrant silvery bubbles that obscured his old body in the chest-deep warm water, and delighting in the gushing little hot jet that tickled his back right in the middle, where it was most apt to hurt.  “He never got past the humiliation of it.  I had nearly forgotten it myself, but he never did, and nursed the grudge all through the years.”

“I don’t see as he should of held it against you,” Sam said.  “When he brought it on hisself in the first place.  And you were much too nice to him about it.  You fixed his books back and everything.  Books must be dear.  He should of been grateful.”

“I suppose so,” Northlight said thoughtfully as he massaged the soap into Sam’s scalp deftly with his fingertips.  “But then there was the matter of his sister Arasinya also.  Of course she and I were never aught but friends.  I invited her a time or two to join me for lunch in a public place, in plain sight of others, but she thanked me and told me that for my sake she would not, for her brother would surely think something evil of it, and make trouble for both of us.  He spoke constantly of the ‘danger’ of races mingling, it was a near obsession with him.  He never did finish college.  He quit during his second term, declaring the institution to be boring and pointless.  He hung with low types, according to Arasinya, frequenting the Brazen Parrot, gambling, getting into fights, betting on horses, and such.  I finally managed to persuade his sister to go to college, and finally her parents caved in and allowed it.  She finished college and married one of the professors there, a fine fellow.  But our friendship continued to infuriate Ionwë.  He sent me a nasty note or two—without signing them, of course.  But I knew very well he had written them.”

Sam shut his eyes tightly as Northlight poured warm water over his head. 

“But when I started teaching at the college, I didn’t see much of Ionwë any more,” he said.  “Then Raven and I were wed.  It was sixteen years after the incident with the fountain.  And I became ‘fleshly’ then.  It was a world-shaking thing for me, of course, to know this; I was reborn, and it brought untold joy and wonder.  We were married in the summer, when I had a holiday from the college, and a more beautiful time I would never know until the birth of our daughter.  But then the term began once more, and life must go on.  One day I stayed late at the college to work on some research in the library, and it was nearly dusk when I turned for home.  I took the mill-road, for it leads directly to our house and is the quickest way there.  Lainadan the miller lives not in the mill-house but nearby it, and you can see his house through the trees but it is hard to see if you don’t know it is there.  Sometimes I stopped there and bought a sack of flour of him.  I tried not to stop there so often, for he very much liked to talk, telling the same stories he had told before, and it was hard to get away.  But I shall never have anything bad to say of him again.

“It was that evening that I was riding down the mill-road for home, when I heard a loud explosion, and my pony shied and threw me—I completely did not expect it, needless to say.  And it was then that I met up with…them.”

Sam shuddered.  Although he knew basically what had happened already, it was different hearing it from Northlight’s point of view.

“They were disguised as orcs,” Northlight said as he shed his robe and slid into the water across the tub from Sam.  “Four of them.  They had been drinking—I could smell brandy on them—and they came at me…and I knew, for the first time, what it was to be terrified and helpless, unable to get away, afraid for my life, in terrible pain…they came with clubs and struck me down, screaming, jeering, laughing…one of them said, ‘Where are your powers now, fish-boy?’ or something like that.  For my powers had gone when Raven and I were wed.  I gave them up, as I knew I must, in exchange for physical sensations.  I might have kept them, if I had wished, but I could not have it both ways.  And so I gave them up for the delight of being her husband, and knowing the joys of the flesh, but in doing so I knew also the pains.  And I knew pain that night.  Not that I had not felt it before, when I fell from a tree and scraped my skin against the rough bark, or stumbled through a dark room on my way to the privy and kicked a chair-leg with my bare foot.  But those were ordinary accidents that befall us all.  This was, was knowing broken bones, and the feel of a whip on one’s bare skin, and a fist in one’s face, and a kick in one’s private areas, and…oh, I am sorry, Sam.  Is this so upsetting to you?”

For Sam had hunched up in the water…the bubbles were gone by now but he neither noticed nor cared…shivering. 

“Aye, it is,” he said.  “But you may tell it if you wish.  I knew somethin’ of it, but…well.  Were they tryin’ to kill you, or what?”

“I don’t know…because Lainadan the miller heard the noise,” Northlight said as he rubbed an arm with a sponge, his hand shaking a little.  “And he came banging on a metal tub to frighten them off, and they fled.  They had been lying in wait for me—they must have planned the whole attack.  Surely they knew of the mill, for there is a road that leads to it from the main road, but I think they stupidly underestimated the distance and supposed themselves to be farther from it than they were.  And they ran off, and I lost consciousness then, and the next thing I knew I was lying in a bed in the healing-chamber of the Palace, with broken ribs and arm, and a gash across my forehead and cheek, and a great many bruises and cuts elsewhere, in danger of my life.  And more pain than I knew was possible to feel.”

“Oh, my poor master,” Sam said softly without even being quite aware of what he was saying.

“Yes,” Northlight agreed.

IX. A Fair and Wondrous Structure

Guilin had come into Northlight’s room as soon as he was conscious and had been sufficiently dosed to relieve his pain, sat on the edge of his bed and took his brother-in-law’s hand and kissed it, a tear falling on it, and told him he would do all he could to help capture his attackers, and Raven said she would help.

“Such joy she had as a bride,” Northlight said as he helped Sam dress, “and then…it was all destroyed. I will never forget that. First she saw her parents slaughtered, and then she had been captured along with her brother by orcs and taken prisoner…and now, in the land where she was supposed to have found happiness, she had to deal with this.  I felt not entirely blameless in the matter, for I had followed Darkfin, and had never truly been punished. And I had not taken sufficient heed of Ionwë’s threats. It was stupid of me not to suppose he would come up with a way to get at me, even after so many years. After all I had seen with Darkfin and his minions, I should have known more of the ways of evil. Had not Arasinya warned me? She said her brother had confronted her a time or two while drunk and called her vile names, threatening to tell her husband that she and I were ‘carrying on like beasts’ behind his back. She said he had sometimes abused her when she was a child, and her parents had done very little to stop him as long as he did not physically harm her, but he belittled her and subjected her to much verbal nastiness, and her mother had merely told her all boys did such and he would outgrow it. So, I should have expected him to take action and felt a great deal of guilt that I had not taken his threats seriously, and now my family was suffering as a result.”

“Nonsense—beggin’ your pardon, M—Northlight,” Sam said as he tucked his cravat into place. “Of course it weren’t no fault of yours. You should never of took it on yourself what that villain did. So how long did it take to capture him and the others?”

“Not so very long. Their horses ran off when Lainadan started banging on the tub, and had run into the city, and been identified. Their owners had been most choice and proud of them, and flaunted them so shamelessly that they became easy to recognize. And thus they betrayed their own masters. The entire Island was determined to track down the perpetrators. Raven wished to go with them, but I feared she would get hurt. I had to look a bit pitiful in order to dissuade her, but it worked. And my parents went, although I wished them not to also. It was Shadowfax who found him. He was an old horse, but he still had powers of his own, especially when our Gandalf rode him. He led the others, and Ionwë was caught hiding in a storehouse, and he denied having taken part, at first, then he confessed, probably fearing what they might do to him if he did not, and betrayed his friends to his captors: Beleg, Raegbund, and Istuion were their names. Ionwë whimpered a great deal, not being as brave when alone as he was with his comrades, claiming that he was drunk and did not know what he was doing, his fellows had put him up to it, and he had never meant to kill me, only to play a prank, and so forth. Yes, I can believe he was terrified. I think they would have torn him limb from limb, had Gandalf not come along. He insisted upon Ionwë and the others being taken to the prison. Everyone was in an uproar. Nothing like this had ever happened on the Island before.  I greatly feared for the peace of the Island, and I was not the only one. There was a great deal more at stake than just my life.

“The Queen told Ionwë that he and his friends would either be put to death or imprisoned for a hundred years, according to the law of the land. She asked me, when I was out of danger, what I wished done. I told her I would have to discuss it with my family. Raven and Guilin, and my brothers and sisters and their spouses, all described in vivid detail what they would have done with them…and yes, I was shocked though not surprised at the blood-thirstiness of their proposals. But I knew I would have a hard time, even after what I had endured, condemning a person to death, although I could have done so had it been one of my loved ones who was attacked rather than myself. I thought perhaps they might be banished from the Island and never allowed to return. But then they would be free to do more evil in Middle-earth. Ionwë’s father came to visit me, when I was allowed to have visitors outside my family, and told me I might do as I wished with his son, he had washed his hands of him, and Arasinya said she was in agreement with her father for once, and so was her mother. I remembered her telling me about her father’s rants about ‘mixing of races’ and how her mother had agreed emphatically, and I had to wonder about him casting off his son for following his own example. And I told him, ‘You made him what he was, and now you wish no more to do with him?’ And he looked startled, and said, ‘I have my beliefs, to be sure. But I have never condoned violence in any form or fashion, and my son has disgraced us beyond all recall. He committed the ultimate betrayal.’ I could but stare him in the face, and after a moment he seemed cast down, and quickly turned to go.”

“Oh now,” Sam protested, “this don’t mean you took pity on that young rascal? I should hope not! His dad was right. He made his bed, now…” But he couldn’t quite finish the sentence.

“Not pity exactly,” Northlight said. “Just before his father left the room, he turned back and looked at me, and after a moment he said, ‘Just what WAS there between you and my daughter?’ And I looked him in the eye and said, ‘Friendship. No more and no less.’ He seemed about to say something else, but thought better of it, and left. I did not see him again. How was it there could be such people in the world, with no heart or conscience, no compunctions or feelings beyond what affects their own standing? But yes. My own former father was much the same.”

“But you didn’t turn out like him,” Sam pointed out.

“No…but perhaps I could have done so, eventually, if my mother had not made intercession for me.”

“I think not…meanin’ no disrespect. If you were aught like him, you wouldn’t of turned from Darkfin, nor come to the Island. And why didn’t that fellow’s sister turn out like that too?”

“She was exceptional, and he was much the opposite. And my mother’s much stronger character helped to counter my father’s influence. But my encounter with Ionwë’s father left me shaken and thoughtful. I was conflicted between that and seeing the effects Ionwë’s deed had upon my family. For yes, I think they suffered worse than I. I think it was harder on my Ada than anyone else, somehow.”

“I’m sure it weren’t no easier for your mum,” Sam said, surprised at himself for saying it, “nor Raven.” At the same time, he had been thinking, yes, it must have been hard on Mister Frodo in a different way. This wasn’t supposed to happen, after all. It would have been bad enough, had it happened in Middle-earth. But here? He had experienced joy and healing and peace, and come to see that he had done a great thing and a huge evil had been purged from the world. And yet this had happened, and he must have felt a failure all over again. 

“It broke him,” Northlight said, standing up and looking toward the window. Sam was startled; this was just what he had been thinking. “It was devastating to all of us, but to him…it was as if all that had been wrought in him during his stay on the Island had been undone. It was as if he had spent years building a beautiful house, putting a world and a lifetime of care and love and work into it, and just after he had got it all finished, someone came along from out of nowhere and torched it. His faith was gone. His joy was over. When I asked him what should be done with Ionwë and his companions, he looked at me and told me they should be put to death. I could scarcely believe my ears. Seeing the wreck of his soul was the worst thing that ever happened to me. He told me he could not speak of it, even to you. I said he should, no matter how hard it was, it would help him, but he said no, it would not. But I knew what I had to do. I had, somehow, to rebuild my father’s house. I had no idea how to go about it. But I knew, somehow, I had to do it.”

“At first,” Sam said, shaken to the core of his being, “he made it sound like you had just met with an accident on the road, or something. But at the same time, I had this feelin’ as he was holdin’ something back. I can understand why, bein’ a father myself thirteen times over. But even when it got to where he could tell me what happened, he still didn’t tell all. Sometimes it got to where I couldn’t hear him any more. That was the worst thing, I was terrified, that he was slippin’ away from me. Oh, I tried so hard to get through to him. To try and cast my thoughts his way, and if my family hadn’t of come first, I would of took ship and sailed. So how did you…rebuild the house?”

Northlight sat down on the edge of the bed, looking down at his clenched hands.

“I decided I should become what he was before,” he said. “To start with, I would have to give Raven back her joy.  And I knew in order to do that, I would have to recover my own. I had to start from the inside out.”

“That makes sense,” Sam said, “although, well, much easier said than done, I should think.”

“Much,” Northlight agreed. “But in order to give my Ada his light back, I would have to give the others their lights as well…and that meant starting with my own. I asked Lord Elrond, in all seriousness, to make me well as soon as possible, telling him of my plan. He must have smiled inwardly, then told me he would do his best, but I must not rush the treatment, and I would do well to let others take care of me for a good while. And so I did.” He smiled a little. “I was loved to death--almost. Even after the way nearly everyone on the Island turned out for my wedding, I was still astounded at how beloved I truly was. People came by the dozens to see me, they brought me gifts, they sent me letters, helped with the upkeep of my house and gardens, and those of my parents. Their children sang songs for me, danced for me, wrote poems and told me stories, as if I were one of them. When I was allowed to get up, they offered to take me to the park, or to the sea-shore. And several of my students came to see me, telling me they hoped I would return soon, and they promised to see to it that no one would ever do me harm again. I think that is what saved the Light. And over and over, I pointed out to my Ada the esteem in which they all held me. I told him, ‘We must give Raven back her joy. That is the most important thing. We must keep the Light burning. Why don’t we sing your hymn anymore, Ada?’ Things like that. He said, ‘What if you had been killed, what then?’ And I pointed out to him that Lainadan the miller just happened to be where he was when I was attacked. He’d told me that had he been inside his house, his wife would not have let him go out when they heard all the uproar. He had no particular reason to be out that night, he said. He had just had a very strong feeling that he should go, and the metal tub, in which his wife had been making soap, was lying close to where he was, and she had not brought it in as she usually did, an unexpected visit from a cousin she had not seen in many years having distracted her from it. ‘Would you not think from that, that Someone was looking out for me?’ I said to my Ada. Once in a while, he would smile at me so sadly, it broke my heart. Nana said I must be patient, this would take time. A house could not be rebuilt overnight.

“And so finally, even as much as I did not want to, I decided I must visit Ionwë.”

“So you didn’t have him put to death,” Sam said. He felt somewhat relieved. Although he would have had the rogue put to death in a heartbeat had he harmed one of his children, he felt horrified at the thought of Mister Frodo saying as he should be. 

“I decided he must be imprisoned…but not for a hundred years,” Northlight said. “I went to visit him, and learned that no one else had been to see him, not his parents, nor his sister, nor any of his former friends. No one but the Queen. She had been down to see him once a week, he told me. I didn’t know this, but I was impressed. He looked shocked to see me, as well he might. He insisted once more that he never meant to kill me.

“‘I didn’t even mean for it to go as far as it did,’ he said. ‘I meant to give you a good fright mostly. But I got caught up in the fury of the moment, and things got out of hand. I suppose the brandy didn’t help any. I know you don’t believe me, but truly I never meant to kill you, or even hurt you so badly as that.’ Then he asked me why I had spared his life. ‘Is it because you want me to live with what I did, and with the knowledge that everyone hates me now, even my own family?’ That took me by surprise. Then before I could answer, he said, looking at me with the profoundest despair I had ever seen, ‘I would you had not spared me. I cannot endure this punishment, if that is any satisfaction to you.’

“I looked straight at him through the prison-bars for a long moment without speaking. Then I said, ‘You and your friends have caused my family untold suffering. You destroyed my bride’s joy in our wedding, and you wrecked my father’s soul. You broke my mother’s heart and disrupted the peace of the Island. It was the miller’s wife who told Raven what happened, and she said it was the hardest thing she ever had to do.  You shattered the entire world of those who never wished you harm, who went through much so that you might enjoy a life of peace and safety and beauty. All this for a little revenge over a prank that you brought upon yourself? I do not believe for a moment that you really thought there was anything going on between your sister and myself.’

“He cringed back then. He kept his eyes averted, then turned away from me with his fists clenched. I think he was trying to think of something defiant to say. He turned back to look at me—trying to come up with a pitiful expression, and he did look rather pitiful, yet defensive also, wondering why he must endure this persecution—why must I try to make him feel guilty? And perhaps a touch of outrage that I thought I was being merciful to him, only to have the privilege of coming here to torment him like a trapped rat. And it occurred to me that that was exactly what I was doing. And I did not much like myself for it. But could I just push all my own feelings aside so easily as that, when something in me wished to rage at him, taunt him with his captivity, remind him of the shabby way he had treated his sister and ruined her innocent friendship with me, spent his days in selfish indulgence and reckless pursuits, undermining the peace of the Island…for yes, those feelings were there. And I do not like that he made me see the same side of myself that he had given free rein to in his own doings.”

“But he needed telling,” Sam pointed out. “Seems to me he was some spoilt piece of impudence that needed a good shaking up.”

“He needed it, yes, but there was more to it. I saw then that what was in him that made him act as he did, was in myself as well.”

“But you have control over it, M—Northlight. You don’t just give in to whatever you feel like doin’ at the moment, with no thought to whether it’s goin’ to hurt somebody else or not. We all have that side to us. Some of us just let it go where it will, like a contrary horse, where others of us know how to make it do our bidding.”

“Nicely put,” Northlight said with a little smile.

“And you had every right to feel all them things.”

“So I did, but it was knowing what to do with all those feelings that was the problem. And I found myself asking him why he hated me. He said he didn’t know. I asked him why he had wanted to frighten me. He said he didn’t know exactly. I had a feeling he had been watching me closely, that he was somehow obsessed with me. I wanted to study him as he had studied me. I said, ‘Did you know I would lose my powers after I was wedded to an elf-maiden?’ And he said, yes, he knew, someone had told him—he would not tell me who. ‘And you were biding your time, waiting until I lost them to strike at me?’ I said. And he said, ‘No, I was not. I suppose you’ll think I’m putting off my own actions on someone else…but it was Beleg who suggested the attack. He got up that gourd thing filled with gas to scare your horse. I wouldn’t have thought of that myself. I’m not sure what he had against you—I think he was just bored and saw the whole business as a lark. But with myself, it was different. I’m not sure what it was.’

“‘Perhaps you knew that fear was a new thing with me,’ I said to him, ‘and you wished me to know what it was.’ And he looked at me in stunned surprise, and said, ‘Perhaps so. After all, I am a coward, you know.’ ‘Yes, I know,’ I said with a little smile. And felt I had seen a gleam of light at last. ‘You have been studying me,’ I told him. ‘You are a mystery to me,’ he explained. ‘I was not used to the idea of people who could not feel pain, or fear, or all the things normal folk feel, and that you had powers the rest of us have not. I wanted to know, and at the same time I was afraid. And then you made a fool of me. Yes, I asked for it, but still it was a bit much. And I think I was jealous of you.’

“‘Jealous? Because of my powers?’ I said. ‘I’m not sure,’ he said, and I began to believe what he was saying. ‘Perhaps. But I think there was more to it.’ ‘Because of Raven?’ I suggested. Again he looked startled. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I did consider her very beautiful. But she was not the sort I would have married, or even had much to do with. She was a Dark-Elf, and I would not approach such a one. Is it really so terrible to believe one should stay with one’s own kind?’ He looked pleadingly at me. ‘It is not terrible,’ I said, ‘and I thought the same once. I did not wish my mother to marry the Prince. That was before I came to know him, and to realize just who and what he really was. And he was good to me before he knew who I was, and put what he saw as my needs before his own. And so I began to see him as my benefactor and that he and my mother were meant for each other…before I even knew that the Sea-Lord had chosen him for my mother’s mate. So in very truth, she was marrying her own kind. Their inner beings were like, even if their outer shells were different. So yes, people should stay with their own kind. It’s just that we have differing ideas of what one’s own kind truly is.’ And he was silent, turning this idea over in his mind.”

“And so you and he would become friends?” Sam felt this idea did not appeal to him at all. Although he admired Northlight for trying, it was his opinion that he should of stayed away.

“Well…I don’t think I would say friends exactly,” Northlight said. “Yet there did remain a certain bond between us, as there can be between enemies. I saw that peace and safety and beauty do not necessarily bring happiness, that one can have all that and still know naught but emptiness and darkness within one’s own soul. When I told Guilin of my visit, he said he thought I was doing the right thing. He said perhaps mercy is the best revenge after all, for it could plant a conscience in one's enemy, and he would begin to feel the prickles and stings of guilt and remorse, and be tormented by them all his days. ‘I know well those stings myself,’ he said, ‘and wouldn’t wish them on most folks, but I can make an exception for the likes of him.’ I said it had not been my intention to have him tormented all his days, and that even if he were, it would not make me feel any better, if I could not give my parents and my wife back their joy. But I did go visit Ionwë once a week, for I felt it was the right thing. Arasinya told me she went to see him the day after his capture, and he had spat at her and called her a filthy name. He asked me to carry a letter to her, and I did so. ‘I did not seal it,’ he told me. ‘You may read it if you like.’ ‘I shall not,’ I said. ‘It is for her.’ ‘Is that why you have been coming to see me?’ he asked me. ‘Because you wished to help her?’ ‘In part, yes,’ I said, then I looked him straight in the eye. ‘Do you not believe a male and a female can be simply friends?’ I asked him. He looked away in some embarrassment, then said, ‘No. I think the problem of lust would always come into it. Do you not?’

“I told him that before my marriage, I was incapable of lust. That I could feel it now, and did upon occasion, with so many lovely females about. ‘I am not perfect,’ I said, ‘but still I’ve no desire to stray from my bride. I consider her the most beautiful and enchanting lady on the face of the earth, and why should I go to any other? And your sister is happily wed. Why should she prefer me to her husband?’ He blushed a little. ‘I see I have wronged you…and her,’ he said. ‘I tend to believe that others think as I do, and if they do not, I hate them for it, considering them fools or prigs or worse.  But I know not how to think any other way.’ And then he said, ‘Please tell my sister I am sorry for my behavior. I do not know why I treated her as I did when we were children. I think I wanted all my parents’ attention, and then she came along and took some of it from me. And it seemed they expected more of me than they did of her, because I was male. I resented it that they did not expect so much of her. I don’t even know why they didn’t, because she was far more intelligent than I. She could memorize an entire poem in the space of an hour, that would have taken me days to learn. And she was much more curious about the things of the world, and could spend hours poring over a book, when I could scarcely bring myself even to open one. I hated that my parents insisted on my going to college instead of her, and resented her for not being allowed. And I hated you for helping her, for you were doing what I should have done. But I didn’t want to help her. I never knew what I really wanted.’”

“‘What do you want now?’ I asked him.

“‘To be anyone but myself,’ he said after a moment.

“I did not visit the others. They were imprisoned separately, and I had no wish to see them.  I told my Ada of my visits, and he asked me, ‘Why do you do this, my son?’ ‘Because I wish to be like you,’ I told him. ‘And to give Raven back her joy. And I think it is coming back to her. I have learnt so much from this experience, even as terrible as it was. I have learnt what it is to be human, and it is a hideous thing, yet very beautiful also. I have learnt that it is a terrible thing to hate the skin you were born into, to the point that you hate others for their skins also. And that beauty without cannot compensate for ugliness within. And that one must walk one’s path without looking back sometimes, and listen to the voice that leads one along without question or regret. And many other things.’

“And then, for the first time in months, I saw him smile as he used to, and he told me he was very proud of me. And I knew I had laid the foundation. And then Nana said something of the garden, and we got the idea to expand it, making it splendid…a setting for Ada’s new house.”

“And is Ionwë still imprisoned?” Sam asked.

“No,” Northlight smiled. “He was freed after six years. Istuion after nine. The others served for twenty.”

“Good,” Sam said.

~*~*~

“Grandmummy, pleeeeeeeease wear this,” Amaryllis begged, holding up a pretty skirt of dark green embroidered with pink and white flowers. “You should dress like us for the Faire. And wear matching ribbons in your hair. And pink and white flowers on your hat. And this lovely lace shawl.”

“Very well then, my lass,” Anemone said smiling, at the same time casting a worried glance toward the guestroom.

“Whatever is taking Daddy and Sam so long in there?” Amaryllis asked. “They’ve been talking in there for ages. I listened at the door for a minute, but couldn’t understand what they were saying.”

“They are getting to know each other,” Raven said smiling. “And you should not have been eavesdropping, little lady.”

“It was by accident,” Amaryllis pleaded. “I was coming from the bathhouse, and just happened to pass by the door. I only slowed down a little.”

“For a full minute?” Anemone laughed.

“It is a wide door,” Raven said with twinkling eyes.

Amaryllis giggled uproariously. Frodo smiled to himself as he knocked on the guestroom door.

“Hullo?” he called.

“Come in, Ada,” Northlight said. Frodo entered, wearing an ivory-colored suit with a crimson cravat and silver studs. Northlight smiled, with more than usual tenderness.

“Are we ready to go?” Frodo asked. He was wearing his eyeglass, but it didn’t take away from his light one jot, thought Sam, looking at him in slow wonder. He looked handsome as ever, and even more shining.

His house was rebuilt, and no mistaking. And a fair and wondrous structure it was.

X. Sundry Items of Gossip

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all, Sam,” Frodo said as they perched on the terrace steps with their pipes, waiting for Northlight to hitch up the cart (Raven and Amaryllis would ride with Tilwen and Galendur and their young ones, and Raven had to be quite firm with her daughter in the matter).  “It was selfish of me to worry you so.  But even long after it happened, I still could scarcely bear to speak of it.  And I was none too proud of myself, either.  I was supposed to be the strong one, and instead I was the one who fell apart.”

“But you’re pulled up and put together again, M—Frodo.  And standing on your own.”

“And it was others who pulled me up.  As usual.”

“Others pulling you up won’t do no good if you don’t make up your mind to stand on your own feet, and do it.  Which you’re doing now…so to speak.”

 “To this day,” Frodo said, shaking his head, “I still cannot imagine how anyone could have done such a thing to our sweet lad.  Maybe I don’t even want to understand it.”

Sam couldn’t think of anything to say to that which wouldn’t sound inane, such as There’s a lot of bad in this old world, or Everything happens for a reason.  

“Still, it must have done him plenty of good to know you cared so much for him, to of been hit so hard by what happened,” he said.  There now.  That wasn’t so bad.  “Specially after his first father, and all.  He must of seen what an improvement you were on him, and felt awful lucky.”

“Yes, Raven said something to that effect.  The things she told me about what happened to her did give me some sleepless nights.  But she said that although she was sorry for that, it was wonderful to know someone loved her enough to be so distressed over the terrible things she went through.  It’s one of the things that sustained her along all this time.”

They took the mill-road.  Sam watched Amaryllis give her dad a quick little embrace before dashing off to join her friends.  He felt pleased to see her so affectionate with him, but it also gave him a little drop inside, thinking of his own young ones.

“There's Lainadan's house,” Frodo said as they rode past the mill.  “We took especially good care of him and his family after that.  We bring him two bushels of our best orange-fruits and several bottles of currant wine every month, and honey and strawberries also.  He insists on giving us a sack of flour in return, which we do accept, but there is no way we can ever really repay him for Northlight’s life, after all.”

“Gloryfall named her second son for him,” Anemone said over her shoulder.  “That gave him quite a thrill, as you may imagine.  Lainadan’s son is quite smitten with both Nightingale’s daughters Melda and Elanor.  An odd thing, since Nightingale’s husband Calanon was much taken with both her and her twin, at the first, and took a while making up his mind between them.  And both twins quite fancied him as well, and they agonized over which of them should get him.  Well I remember all the things they used to do, to decide which of them should marry him.  They tossed a coin, and played little games with their names to see which one would be more suitable, and pestered poor Raven half to death as to which one of them should marry him, and so forth.  Then we met the sculptor Annûnlanthir, who was vastly impressed with Moonrise’s talent at carving, and he engaged his grandson Amonost to teach him.  Well, Amonost ended up learning as much from Moonrise as Moonrise learned from him, and they quickly became close friends.  And then Gloryfall met him and in her own words, she fell for him at first sight ‘like an avalanche’.  But their problem was solved, for Calanon really loved Nightingale best.  He was just too soft to come right out and say so, until Amonost happened along.” 

Sam chuckled, even as his heart quickened at the sound of his eldest daughter’s name.  He already knew Nightingale had a child named for her, but hearing the name spoken would always make him jump inside.

They could hear the crowd now.  The Faire was already in full swing, with a small band consisting of drum, bagpipe, fiddle, flutes, harps, and tambourine, playing merry dance-tunes.  And Sam could smell something delicious cooking.  Roast pig, or his name wasn’t Samwise Gamgee, he thought.  Mingled with that was the sweetness of something baking, and wood-fires burning, and something spicy also.  His stomach rumbled.  He hoped they’d get something to eat first thing…even though it hadn’t been so long since second breakfast, at that.

“Not ALL their problems were solved,” Northlight pointed out.  “Sabariel—Calanon’s mother—put up quite a fuss about her son’s marrying one of the sea-folk.  Never mind that her own husband was the product of a mixed marriage; that was ‘different’, she said.  The race of Men were at least ‘human.’   She’s the sort who can’t see reason one way or the other, when her mind was made up, no use confusing her with the facts…and yes, she was a close friend of Ionwë’s mother.  Maldor—her husband—took their son’s side, rather to our surprise, and I imagine it was horrible for Calanon to feel pulled apart between them.  But he inherited a good deal of his mother’s obstinacy, and he would marry Nightingale whether she liked it or not.  I’ve always been greatly fond of him; there’s far more to him than meets the eye, and he’s a fun fellow besides.  He tried his best to protect Nightingale from his mother’s nastiness and insults, and she knew it and greatly appreciated it.  I doubt most people in the City took Sabariel’s slanders very seriously.  Even though there were more who greatly disapproved of mixing of the races than we had supposed.”

“But after what happened to Northlight,” Anemone said, “she did ease up—no doubt fearing people would think she had put Ionwë and the others up to it.  And finally she and Maldor were reconciled.”   

“Another good thing that came of it,” Northlight said.

“I’ve grown rather close to Maldor,” Frodo said.  “He is not the sort I would have chosen as a friend, but it’s been worthwhile knowing him, and we learned much from each other when we chose to open our minds to it.  It comes with having a large family, learning to deal with those we had just as soon avoid…as you no doubt know very well, my dear Sam.”

“Don’t I just!” Sam said with a little laugh.  “And I did end up making friends with some I would sooner have not dealt with at the first, meself.  And my Merry-lad and Pippin-lad both fancied the same lass, at one time.  They were together always, spite of there being two years’ difference between them, and this lass, Miss Honeysuckle Goatcloset of—”

“Goatcloset??” Frodo interjected.  Anemone and Northlight both jerked their heads to stare at the two hobbits in back of the cart.

“That’s right,” Sam chuckled.  “The Goatclosets come up from Nobottle, big as you please—I’d never heard of ‘em and neither had anybody else, and it was our opinion that they was up to no good, but they made a name for theirselves in the dry goods business, soon enough.  Their daughter Honeysuckle was right pretty, but a fickle little baggage she was, and liked all the attention my lads give her, and kept ‘em guessing as to which she liked best.  No use of Rosie and me tellin’ ‘em they’d best turn their eyes away, she’d just end up playin’ ‘em both for fools and settin’ ‘em agin each other.  Rosie didn’t even bother pretendin’ to be civil to her.  Told her right to her face that she was a wicked little piece of mischief and she’d better stay away from her lads or she’d take a broomstick to her, she would.  Well, what do you think them two silly lads ended up doin’?  They would get up a fightin’ match between ‘em, that’s what they did.  Right in the town square.  The winner would get the hand of Miss Honeysuckle.  Well, there they were, the two of ‘em, going at it, first one round, then the next…and when they’d had four rounds—spite of bein’ a full year apart in age, they was pretty equally matched as to size, Pippin-lad just a year or two shy of comin’ of age.  And one of ‘em was bleedin’ at the nose, and the other had a pretty nasty shiner, but still they kept at it, with Rosie callin’ to Merry-lad not to hit his brother so hard, or she’d give him what-for afterward, and her brother’s ‘d laugh till they seen the look she give ‘em, and of course I knew better, meself.  And then, what do you think:  Rosie’s brother Tom comes up and says that he seen Miss Honeysuckle all snuggled up with his eldest lad’s best friend under the Party Tree—in broad daylight, yet.  Well, that stopped ‘em right in mid-punch, and they looked at one another for a moment that I thought would last forever…and a pitiful sight for sore eyes they were…and then, suddenly Pippin-lad started to laugh, and you could of knocked me over with a feather, and Merry-lad started laughin’ too, and they laughed and laughed, and then they hugged each other, and then they cried, and then they laughed some more, and so did me and Rosie…it was a sight to behold and no mistakin’.  But Miss Honeysuckle didn’t even stick with Tom’s lad’s friend neither, she married Ludo Bunce, and not three months after the weddin’ she run off with some peddler of perfumes, and hasn’t been seen nor heard of since.”

Now they could see the merrymakers in full swing.  Dancers near the Tree, in a wide ring, and a smaller ring inside of it, and here and there were wagons with folks selling treats…and yes, there was Guilin, with his two eldest, hawking their frozen stuff, which was getting quite a lot of business from the looks of things.  The two younger ones Sam could see along with their mum, eating some of the stuff, Nessima reaching down to wipe it away as it dripped on their clothing.  There were boaters on the pond, and couples strolling all about it, and young ‘uns wading in and out of it without a care, and even a dog or two, chasing the ducks, to the excitement of the ducklings that clustered on the bank.  There were some folk in strange costumes, very colorful, with masks or paint on their faces and some mighty odd-looking wigs and hats, and some of these did tricks, and juggled, and turned flip-flops in the air, jumping high in the air on a contraption that looked to be a huge circle of canvas held to a metal frame by big springs.  You’d think they would of jumped a big hole through it, but not a bit of it.  Must have been pretty strong stuff, sail-cloth maybe.   Up, up, they jumped, turning three or four flips at a time, coming down on their feet or their behinds, leaping up again sometimes with their legs spread out at wide angles and touching their toes.  Onlookers, mostly children—Mister Frodo had told Sam not to refer to them as “elflings”, for they didn’t like it—cheered and laughed and clapped. 

“Northlight used to do that,” Frodo said as they watched, “back before his and Raven’s wedding.  He’d jump unbelievably high, then break into a firework of a hundred tiny Northlights, spin about and then come very nicely down again in one piece.  It was truly something to see.”

Joy and pride fairly radiated from him as he spoke.  Northlight looked a trifle sheepish.

“Who came up with that thing they’re jumping on?” Sam asked.

“Well…some say I did,” Frodo said, “but I will swear I had naught to do with it.  I was merely fiddling with some springs that came from the old swing on the terrace, that were rusted and of no more use, and was toying with the idea of attaching some new ones to a hammock for the young ones to bounce on…and Galendur and Calanon and Leandros just happened to be there…and well, less than half a year later, this apparatus made its first appearance at the Sporting Center.  No one seems to know its true origins to this day.”  He cast a sidelong look at Northlight, who looked wondrously innocent all of a sudden.

“What say we get something to eat?” Anemone said, after a fruitful moment.

“I think that’s a most wonderful idea, my lady,” Sam said happily. 

And then they heard a shout, and turned to see Amaryllis running toward them, with Silivren and Little Iorhael following close behind, both of them pushing what was obviously two wheelchairs lashed together.

XI. Portraits in Eternity

A huge cheer arose as Northlight and Little Iorhael pushed the two hobbits along in the double-wheelchair, at which Sam blushed crimson while Frodo smiled and waved cheerily to all.  Then he grasped Sam’s hand, remembering his own first arrival on the Island so long ago, at which Bilbo had been the waver and smiler, and he himself the blusher.

Anemone and Raven spread out a linen sheet on the grass, while Northlight and Little Iorhael lifted the hobbits out of their wheelchairs and set them gently on the ground on pillows provided for them.  Fairwind and Barathon came along with their two youngest—the two big boys were out somewhere, but would probably be along sooner or later.  Then came Nessima with Little Anemone and Carandol, and the twins with several of their offspring in tow, and Embergold, and Sandrose with some of her brood, Moonrise and Ebbtide with their wives, and assorted others that Sam recognized from the day before but couldn’t recall all their names or which name belonged to whom.  One of the little ones, Scarlet, begged to wear her great-granddad’s eyeglass, but her mummy told her she KNEW that was one thing she must never do.  Sam told the child that when she was bigger, maybe she could have an eyeglass of her own.  It made her smile hugely.

Food was gathered from sundry booths, with children squabbling over who got to fetch what.  There was the roast pig, and plates of fruit and elf-bread with butter and honey, some fried fish, baked potatoes, baskets of greens, and a special treat:  onions cut into petals and deep-fried in a delicious spicy-sweet batter.  Sam, after he had quieted the rumbling in his stomach sufficiently with the succulent goodies heaped before him, could scarcely help but notice the clothing worn by the inhabitants, which was far different than he remembered Elves wearing in Middle-earth.  For one, it was considerably more colorful; for another, the styles were different in a way he found it hard to describe.  The males wore their hair much shorter, some of it barely touching their shoulders in fact.  And many of the ladies were wearing their skirts shorter…showing their ankles yet.  And some of the skirts were wider, spreading out considerable—rather like the skirts hobbitesses wore.  Some of it spun around wide when they danced, showing ruffly petticoats beneath.  And some wore shorter sleeves—up above their elbows, for a fact.  And wide straw hats with flowers on them. 

He noted this to Frodo and Anemone, and Mister Frodo smiled and said the dresses they wore were designed by Anemone.   

“EVERYBODY here wears Grandmum’s designs,” Amaryllis declared with pride.  “They’ve been doing it for an eternity now.  Even the Queen wears them, although some folks threw fits when she first started doing it.  But they got used to it eventually.  Some people seem to think we should be wearing the same old style our whole life long.  I think that would be deathly boring!” 

Several of the others laughed, and Sam said grinning, “Well, my lass, seems Shire-folk think the same.  I haven’t noticed the fashions there have changed much since I was a lad.  I think I’d of felt funny, meself, if everyone’s clothes had been different of a sudden.  The ladies’ gowns here are pretty, for certain, but not what I would of expected of elf-ladies.”

“I never intended the wide skirt for everyday wear,” Anemone said.  “It was meant for special, dancing and such.  It’s not very practical really, and uses up an awful lot of material.  But many of the ladies, especially the younger ones, have taken to wearing them on the street and on the beach and even out in the green.  Sometimes you must be very careful what you start.”

“You don’t see them so much on Wood-Elves,” Frodo said.  "They tend to be rather old-fashioned and set in their ways.  There are not really many wood-Elves on the Island—most of them live in Aman.  What few there are here keep largely to themselves.  They disapprove of city-folk, calling them ‘forgetful of their origins’, saying that they ‘act like the Secondborn’ and fall into vulgar and wasteful habits.  That they don’t care any more about the old tales and songs, and have even embraced that most barbaric of musical instruments, the Bagpipe.  In turn, many of the city-folk laugh at the sylvan ones, calling them boring and stick-in-the-mud, forever plucking on harps in the tree-tops and lamenting the lost glory of bygone ages.  Both sides are exaggerating, of course.  I’d hardly call the city-folk vulgar, and the sylvans are often quite amusing and vivacious.  But I suppose people will always need something or someone to criticize.”

“Sea-names became quite fashionable for a time,” Anemone said.  “There were girls named Whitewave, Stormcloud, Dolphin, Sunsilver, Tranquility, even one called Nudibranch.  I don’t think she liked it much.”

“Tranquility,” Sam said.  “That’s kinda pretty, though.  Why is it elf-children don't like to be called Elflings?”

“Same reason we don't like to be called Halflings, I suppose,” Frodo said. 

“That makes sense,” Sam had to admit.  Northlight laughed.

“I remember how offended we were," he said, “when my brothers heard that some land-folk referred to us as 'Waterlings.'  We fumed and growled over this outrage, and discussed among ourselves what was to be done about it, but could come up with nothing feasible, since we had never even been around land-folk.  What were we supposed to do, I reasoned, go ashore and get them wet?”

All laughed, Sam saying softly, “Maybe not such a good idea, at that.”

As the picnic progressed, he and Anemone exchanged about half a dozen stories each about their families, much to the amusement of the youngsters.  Amaryllis exploded with giggles over the Goatcloset episode (a somewhat cleaned-up version of it), saying, “Just WAIT till Castiel hears THAT one!  She will fall over dead laughing.”

“It doesn’t take much to make her laugh,” Silivren noted.  “Castiel is my cousin,” she informed Sam, who already knew that, but he nodded and grinned.

“There she is now!” Amaryllis squealed, jumping to her feet and grabbing Silivren’s hand.  “Let’s go tell her!”  And before anyone could say a word both girls scrambled up and dashed off in Castiel’s direction, their colorful skirts and long braids flying behind them.  Sam chuckled to himself.

“Look,” Northlight said softly, laying a hand on Sam’s shoulder, “there's Ionwë.  His back is to us.  That’s Arasinya with him, with her husband and two sons.” 

He waved to a lady in pink a good distance away, with one hand on the arm of a fair-haired gent, her other hand extended to a small boy who skipped away toward a bigger one, bumped into him probably on purpose, then ran off giggling with his brother in hot pursuit.  Arasinya smiled and waved back.  Her brother turned about halfway, and waved also, but then quickly turned back to the others.  Mister Frodo’s expression was hard to read.

“What does he do now?” Sam found himself asking. 

“He’s a copyist,” Northlight said.  “The Queen set him to copying out books while he was in prison.  He lives by himself, but Arasinya lives close by.  She and her husband and Raven and I sometimes go into the City to the theater all together, and the lads stay the night with Ionwë.  His parents are speaking to him now, but he doesn’t go about much with them in public.  The Queen set the others to copying also, and Beleg wrote obscene verses into some of the books until she caught on to what he was doing, and needless to say, she was none too pleased.  She put him to mucking out the stables.  Then he tried to escape, thereby earning himself a longer sentence.  Our Lady is not one to trifle with.”

“I should say not, and good for her,” Sam said.  “So where are the others now?”

“I don’t know,” Northlight said.  “They disappeared not long after their release.  They were forbidden to see each other.  All were made to apologize publicly to me and my family, and Ionwë was the only one who sounded sincere.  He actually went down on his knees without being bidden.  I doubt the others went to Aman—I don’t think they would be allowed in, but I don’t know where else they could have gone.  I think they might have gone to sea.  Or perhaps are living out in the wild somewhere.”

“Well, I sure hope we don’t meet with them,” Sam said.  

“Guilin started going to Temple not long after…it happened,” Frodo said after a moment.  “He said he was so thankful Northlight was spared, he would go every week, and sometimes more often.  He took quite a religious fit.  It didn’t last, and sad to say, I was rather relieved about that, because it was quite bizarre.  It was as if he had taken to dressing all in yellow, or something.  Still, it did show me, finally, that I should be thankful also, and stop moping about.”

Northlight and Sam both laughed a little.

“It WAS bizarre,” Northlight said.  “He took to wearing these absurdly drab colors, and going about discussing the nature of Goodness, and Duty, and Sacrifice, and Forbearance and so forth.  Yet he was entirely serious.  He set aside a day for fasting and contemplation, and going about the forest with his arms lifted in praise of the Powers.  Even his wife didn’t know what to make of it.”

Mister Frodo laughed aloud then, which was good to hear.  Guilin had come closer on hearing his name mentioned, and he laughed also.

“Everyone thought I’d gone bonkers,” he said.  “I dare say I had, at that.  Galendur said I was turning into a wood-Elf.  That’s what started bringing me around.”

All laughed, Sam hardest of all.

“I thought he was going to end up building a tree-house,” Galendur said, “like Seragon’s father.  He’s my wife’s brother-in-law, and his father is a bit of a nutter.  Has a nice little flet built above his wife’s house, and perches up there warbling fanciful ditties and preaching to the birds much of the day, I suppose.  Naturally, his son’s as different from him as night from day.”

After the ladies cleared away the remains of their feast, Sam said he would like to get a closer look at the mosaic on the wall near the Tree.  Northlight helped him into his chair, brushing the crumbs off the front of his waistcoat.  The dancing was still in full swing, and some of the dancers waved to the hobbits as they rode by.  They were so full of life and color, whirling and stamping gracefully about, it did the heart good to watch. 

“I remember when we used to dance like that, Anemone and I,” Frodo said thoughtfully, and very softly to Sam.  “My dancing days are over, of course.  But she’s still got a bit of spring in her.  I hope she finds someone to dance with when I’m gone.  She says she’ll go when I do, but I don’t wish her to.  She still has many good years left.”

Sam hoped Mister Frodo would be successful in persuading her to remain behind.  Not only because she really wasn’t old enough yet, but because he intended to go himself when Mister Frodo did, and it would be a bit odd to have the three of them going off together.

The Tree was dazzlingly tall and white and fairly glowed in the noonday sunlight.  Sam saw what was no doubt the Orphans’ Wall, of black marble on the other side, with a torch burning above the sculpted eagle in the middle. 

And then he saw the mosaic.  And was struck absolutely dumb.

There it was, just as Mister Frodo had described it to him.  It seemed to shine with Mister Frodo’s own light.  The glass he held actually had light in it, although that may have been where the sun was hitting it.  There were the stars around him in the night sky, made of actual gem-stones, with silvery rays all around, and there was a cloud of light about his head, of gold and scarlet flames with white at the edges, and bits of silver worked into the blue of his garment, and the hair was blowing out as if in a gentle wind, and the face was as he had been in his youth, as if he was looking off at something others couldn’t see, and longing for it with his whole being.  And the hand holding the glass clutched at his breast as though the Ring were there.  And the beautiful gold letters that spelt his name, IORHAEL, at the bottom. 

And although the music continued to play, it was as though the entire crowd were holding its breath in silence.

And then he looked at the mosaic beside it.

“How did she do it?” he asked at last.  “When she’d never even laid eyes on me.”

“I showed her a drawing I made,” Mister Frodo said.  “I never supposed it did you justice, but she produced an amazing likeness.  I tried to start it off myself, but although Ríannor taught me well, I couldn't make it go, and so she finished it for me.”

Sam looked at the portrait, struck dumb once more.  The sky in the background was day-blue, with red and yellow and white flowers at the edge, the garment green and yellow, the hair sandy-gold, blowing in the breeze also, and both hands held a box of carved dark wood.  And the name PERHAEL spelt in gold also.  Between the two portraits was worked a mallorn tree with leaves of gold, spreading protectively over the two faces with white blossoms drooping down.  And the blossoms of the real tree in front gave off an airy sweet scent that mingled with that of the carefully pruned rosebushes in front of the portraits.  Sam blinked back tears, and felt he could have stayed there all day.

“I wish my old Gaffer could of seen this,” he said at last.

XII. What the Darkness Revealed

As Sam held Belladonna’s newborn son in his arms, he felt a wave of homesickness. At the same time he rejoiced to see the look on Mister Frodo’s face. It must have been on his own each time a new grandchild came into the world.

“Isn’t he just sweet?” Amaryllis chirped as she caressed the wee toes. “He's soooooo teeny!” Belladonna’s sisters hung about giggling behind her. Belladonna sat beside her mother, Summershine, who held baby Peregrin in her lap, while Anemone held little Starbright. Belladonna had the black hair, and seemed mighty perky considering that she had given birth just a few hours ago. Sam wondered where the baby’s daddy was.  Then he vaguely recalled Mister Frodo saying that no one knew where Belladonna’s mate had got off to.

“So what will you call him?” Sam asked her gently.

“Well,” Belladonna said, “I thought maybe I’d call him Peacock. My great-aunt Fairwind said a long time ago that if she ever had a son she’d name him Peacock, but she called him Meriadoc instead.”

“Aren’t you afraid he may end up with an awfully loud voice and a vain strut?” Anemone teased her.

“Pain splut,” little Peregrin spoke up. Sam laughed. Belladonna smiled.

“Maybe he’ll just have beautiful blue-green eyes and a sweeping, commanding grace,” she said. Sam was impressed.

“Or maybe he’ll have lots and lots of eyes on his bum,” Arkenstone said, “and he’ll be able to see what’s coming without turning around.”

To Sam’s surprise, no one reproved him. Instead, all laughed, including Sam.

The next few days were a leisurely and wondrous blur to Sam. They toured the City of Avellonë, and took dinner at the Palace, and visited Ríannor’s horse farm and Barathon’s sugar plantation, went to the Sporting Center to see a race, and Sam found he didn’t always need the wheelchair, or even his cane. The sheer beauty and color of his surroundings, together with the joyous atmosphere and loving enthusiasm of Mister Frodo’s family members, not to mention all the delicious food and drink, and most of all the very presence of Mister Frodo himself, had such an invigorating effect, Sam felt as if thirty years had dropped from him. He found he could get up in the morning and go to the privy without having to wake anyone, and get himself dressed without help. And he found that on the nights that he didn’t get Mister Frodo to himself, he didn’t do so bad as he expected, Rosie-doll being company enough.

He had not expected to be feeling this good, and he even found himself somewhat dismayed. He knew Mister Frodo had lasted this long because of him, but surely he wouldn’t last much longer…and Sam had counted on going out when he did. Now he found that he didn’t want to go out so soon.

He spoke this concern to Mister Frodo, as they lay in canvas chairs out on the beach, watching the children play. Northlight sat apart with Raven and Anemone so that Sam and Frodo could have some time alone together. Amaryllis had obviously not inherited her mother’s dislike of the water; indeed she had quite a passion for it, and complained about not being allowed to go cliff-diving like her cousins.

“It doesn’t seem fair,” she’d said, as Skylark, Treasure, and Glimmerglass took turns diving incredibly far outward and landing with scarcely a splash in the blue-green waves, followed up by their mum, sweet Miss Summershine. “Why couldn’t I have taken more after my daddy’s side?”

“I wouldn’t want to cliff-dive,” Silivren said with a little shiver. “I’d be scared.”

“So would I,” Castiel said. She looked the most like Mistress Lyrien, but her hair was a shade or two darker than her sister’s, bound in wet braids.

“Well, I would too, I think,” Amaryllis said. “But it’s still not fair.”

The adults laughed. Arkenstone and Little Iorhael ran out with their wave-boards, which were brightly painted with sunburst designs. Sam watched the two lads in fascination as they paddled out and waited for the swell, and then slowly stood on the boards with bent knees and outstretched arms, heads thrust well forward.

“Now I would never of let any of mine do that,” he said shaking his head. “Not but that they wouldn’t of gone out and tried it anyways. ‘Specially Merry-lad and Pippin-lad. The two of them would of tried most anything once, and more often than not, they did. Now Ellie was the spunky one of the lasses. Very daring she was. And smart, and pretty as a picture. Folks said as she had somethin’ elvish about her. In fact, there was a few spiteful folks as went around sayin’ as she was your daughter, Mister Frodo, and even went as far as to say that’s why you took off like you did. They didn’t say it to my face, of course, but it got back to me. I know it wasn’t true in the least, though she did seem to take after you in some special way….”

“That’s terrible—that they would say such a thing,” Frodo said flushing a bit. “Even if I could have fathered a child, I would never have done such a thing to you, Sam.”

“I know you wouldn’t of, M—Frodo. Nobody with any sense thought anything of it.  I wish Ellie could of come with me. She’d of been right at home here. Now Rosie-lass, she was clever, but in a different way from Ellie. She had a sharp tongue, and was quick to light into you if you got in her road, and could talk her way out of a fix. She was like her mum in more ways than just her name, with a good heart underneath it all. Goldy was a talker too, but not so clever. Got herself into many a pickle ‘cos she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. She married Mister Pippin’s lad, Faramir. Maybe I told you already. Primrose was the one that didn’t live to marry. She was born with a defect that made her slow to learn so that she was but a child all her life, and we lost her before she come of age. But what a joy she was to us all, so loving and cheery, in the time we had her! All of ’em was a joy, in their own way....”

“I hope you don’t miss them too much, Sam,” Mister Frodo said.

“I s’pose I will miss ‘em from time to time,” Sam said. “I didn’t expect to last long here, but I’ve been feelin’ so chipper lately, I might be around considerable longer than I thought. And…well…”

“Sam, are you worrying that you won’t feel like coming with me when my time comes?” Frodo asked. Sam jumped, since this was exactly what he had been worrying about, and he was trying to think of a way to say it. “Sam dear, I do not ask you to go with me if you do not want to. I’ve told you that already.  You shall take all the time here that you wish, and join me when you are ready.”

“But…but…Frodo, what would I do here without you?” Sam protested. “Your family—well, I know they’re fond of me, and I of them, but…”

“To be truthful, Sam,” Frodo said, “I’ve had a worry of my own—I already hinted about it at the Faire, I think. I’ve worried about Anemone, and what she’ll do without me. As I said, she still has many good years left to her. You saw her dancing with her sons, and her grandsons, and with Guilin…well, if he weren’t married already, I would not mind if she were to marry him, just for company—the height difference might present a bit of a problem, I’m sure. I thought perhaps she might meet some sea-man and marry him, but I doubt that will happen—how many seafolk would wish to be bound with a woman of advanced years, who would die soon? But I don’t like to think of her all alone. And she thinks the world of you, and—“

“Why, Mister Frodo!” exclaimed Sam, at the same time thinking to himself, absurdly, that he shouldn’t of said “Mister”, “are you sayin’ that…me…and Anemone…. Now Frodo. I think the world of her also, but I don’t wish to marry again, and no more does she, I’m sure. And it wouldn’t hardly be fittin’ for us to live together under the same roof without a weddin’, even if we wasn’t sharin’ a bed and all. No, M—Frodo, it can’t be.”

“As you wish, Sam. But all the same, if you should change your mind, I want you to know you both would have my blessing on the union.”

Sam was considerably rattled, and didn’t know what else to say. In a daze he turned his eyes back to watching the young ‘uns, without really seeing them.

Much later they sat on the terrace smoking pipes and watching the sinking sun and the first glimmering of the Beacon light. Sam and Northlight discussed gardening techniques as Anemone and Raven cleared the supper table and Amaryllis talked with Mister Frodo.

“I wish we could go and see the tower up close,” Amaryllis said as Northlight went to put away his tools in the little garden-house. “But I guess it’s too far away.”

“Yes, it is,” her granddad agreed, “for a couple of old codgers like us. My old bones could never withstand that journey.”

“That’s all right,” Sam said. “I’m content to view the light from here. I’ve been feeling considerable stronger since I’ve been here, but I’m not THAT strong.”

“I’ve only been there once,” Amaryllis said, “but I was too little to remember much about it. I’d like to see it again sometime.”

“You’ve the rest of the ages to see it,” her granddad reminded her with a smile.

“Well, I know,” she said, “but I want…” She halted. It was as if it had occurred to her for the first time that her granddad was not going to live forever.

Northlight came back from the garden-house and sat down on the terrace steps, and his daughter came and sat beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing her dark head against his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and laid his cheek on it, squeezing her with one arm and caressing her hair. Sam hoped she wasn’t weeping. The sun had sunk considerable into the clouds, hovering just above the sea.

“The sun is about to drown,” Amaryllis whispered.

“Look,” Anemone said suddenly, coming out to stand behind her son and granddaughter. “Someone is coming over the bridge.”

Sam squinted his eyes, but could see no one. Northlight stood up, and so did Amaryllis. Mister Frodo sat up in his long chair. Raven came out from the house where she had been putting away the supper dishes.

“Someone IS coming,” Mister Frodo whispered to Sam. “I can see something. But…it has no light.”

Northlight took something from his vest pocket and whispered to it, and Sam saw a light begin to glow in his hand. He held the light up, the better to see who or what was coming.

“You…you don’t have bears out here, do you?” Sam said. 

“We do, I’ve heard,” Mister Frodo said, “although I’ve never seen one. I don’t think a bear would cross the bridge, however.”

“It IS a bear,” Amaryllis said in alarm. “Grandmum keeps bees--he probably wants our honey! Daddy, what will we do? Oh, if we only had a bow and arrow...or a spear....”

“It’s not a bear, love,” Northlight said between clenched teeth. “Do not worry—the light of Ëarendil will protect us.”

Now Sam could see a figure at the end of the bridge, and a chill ran over him. It was no bear, unless bears on this island wore hoods and cloaks. Why didn’t it have light? He saw it hesitate, stand still, and it seemed it was either taking a look around, or thinking of going back where it came from, or else screwing up the courage to come closer. Amaryllis clutched tight to her father’s arm.

“Amaryllis,” Raven said, “perhaps you had better come inside, dearie.”

But Amaryllis stayed where she was, until her father bade her go indoors. The little girl then turned and went in, but did not close the door behind her.

“Raven,” Mister Frodo said, “will you please go fetch my light from Sam’s room?”

Raven nodded and flurried indoors, and Sam saw the figure start toward the cottage. It was walking quickly now.

“Who do you suppose it is?” Sam whispered to Mister Frodo, who didn’t answer but kept his eyes fixed on the approaching figure. He took off his eyeglass, rubbed it absently on his shirt-front and put it on again. Raven came back out with the star-glass, which she gave to Mister Frodo, who murmured to it to make the light come on. Sam could feel its warmth, and the beautiful brightness was a sudden comfort to him.

Now the figure was coming up the garden walk, and Sam couldn’t help but wish they had a guard-dog, which Mister Frodo said they used to have long ago, but he had long since died.

Now Sam could see it was a male figure, coming up the walk hesitantly, and Northlight stood just above the top step holding up his own light—Sam had noticed a slight bulge in Northlight’s pocket several times before but hadn’t thought to ask what it was, and he remembered Mister Frodo telling of how he had poured some of his light into another little phial for Raven when she was a little girl and afraid of the dark.

The figure came closer, until it was about five yards away, then stopped. It wore a long cloak, almost ankle length, and the hood was over his head, but Sam could see a bit of his face underneath it, pale in the shadow of it.

“Who goes there?” Northlight spoke. The figure stood motionless, then slowly its cloak parted in front and a pair of pale hands appeared.

“Northlight,” a voice spoke softly from the hood, “don’t come any closer.” He held out both hands to his sides, and the hood fell away. Northlight started, nearly dropping the glass.

“Ionwë?” he said.

The hood nodded.

XIII. Northlight's Dog

For a moment Sam thought his heart had stopped beating.  A moment later he told himself he was a fool to have thought all the bad things were past and gone.

He glanced aside at Mister Frodo, who looked deathly pale in the light…and acting on sheer impulse, he seized the star-glass, sprang up from the chair, and marched over to where Northlight stood above the terrace steps, demanding, “Here, you!  What business have YOU over here?”

Frodo stared at him in utter amazement, the next moment wondering why Sam’s action should have surprised him, even at his age.  Then, seeing Sam stop and sway for a moment, he jumped up from his own chair and caught his friend’s arm, saying, “Come, Sam.  Sit down here, do not excite yourself this way.”  Sam allowed him to steer him to a chair which Raven pulled out for him, then Frodo sat down in another chair beside him.

“Don’t be afraid,” Ionwë said without moving from where he stood.  “I will come no closer.  Northlight, I went to your house, but since no one was there and I saw a light across the bridge…I have come to tell you that Beleg and Raegbund have come out of hiding.  They got wind of your father’s friend’s arrival, and a while ago they came to my flat—I don’t know how they found out where I lived, I suppose they saw me by chance and followed me home—and asked me if I wanted to ‘have a bit of fun.’  I said I had no wish whatsoever to go back to prison, and wanted naught to do with whatever they were up to.  They had been living in the wild, then they lived in different villages under different names.  So does Istuion, but he would not come with them either.  They said he has a wife now.  And he was never really a bad sort, just easily led, and he liked a thrill.  I’ve already sent word to the Queen that they are about.  Have you any weapons?”

Northlight stood staring at him, and Sam hoped he was not about to ask Ionwë to come and sit down. 

“No swords nor daggers, if that is what you mean,” he said.  Ionwë slowly took something from under his cloak, and Sam saw the glint of a steel blade.  This Ionwë held with the handle out, and extended it toward Northlight.

“I stole it from Raegbund,” he said.  “He can be wily, but he’s easy to trick also.”

Northlight after a hesitant moment, took the dagger.  “Thank you, Ionwë,” he said.  “You took a great chance bringing this, did you not?”

“Yes.  If I had been caught with it, I would have been done for.  But I had to come and warn you.  Beleg, as you know, has a very nasty streak.  He could be lurking about anywhere.  I asked the Queen to provide you with protection, and if he ever finds out I did so, it will be all up with me, especially since I took Raegbund's dagger.  But you spared my life when you had every reason not to, and saw to it that I was released much sooner than I otherwise would have been…and this is the least I can do for you in return.”

Sam found himself trembling violently.  He looked at Mister Frodo, who sat absolutely still and white, and feared he might be having a seizure, and his eyes looked steelier than the blade.  He glanced back at Anemone and Raven, who stood together grimly behind them, and saw Amaryllis peeking out through the partially opened door. 

“Did you come all this way on foot, Ionwë?” Northlight asked.

“Yes,” said Ionwë.  “I have no horse.  And now I’ve no other weapon.  And they may be out there…But…”

“Wait,” Northlight said.  “Do you see that stable?  You have come this far in the dark on foot, and taken a great chance to warn me.  So if I allow you to stay the night in the stable-room, I can trust you to do no harm?”

“No,” Sam heard Amaryllis whisper behind the door.  He couldn’t tell if Northlight heard or not.  But Sam was thinking the same.  He reached over and touched Frodo’s shoulder, rubbing it a little.  Frodo touched his hand.  His fingers were icy. 

“Thank you,” Ionwë said, “but I think it better not to take you up on your kind offer.  I think your wife and child and mother would not sleep well if I were about.  And I am afraid now for the safety of my sister and her family as well.  I will take a different road back and go stay with her for the night.  Perhaps the Queen will have gotten the message and will have posted guards by now.”

“I would give you back your blade,” Northlight said, “for I have our light to protect us—it was given us by the Queen to begin with, and then blessed by all the Powers.  My Ada filled this glass from his own for Raven when she was a child, and then he refilled it with new water and Raven gave it to me to carry for protection.  So I do not need your weapon.  But if you are caught with it, yes, the consequences would be very dire for you, and so I will keep it for you.”

“Take this with you,” Frodo said, and Sam started, and saw him pick up his own light from the table, rise and go over to stand beside Northlight, handing out the star-glass to Ionwë.  “It will light your way and ward off danger, if you will but believe in its power.  The others shall stay here tonight, and Northlight’s glass will be sufficient for our safety.”

And he actually ascended the steps and extended the light to Ionwë, who after a long hesitation took it, looking down at the little elderly hobbit in wonder.

“Thank you very much,” he said at last, cradling the glass in both hands.  “I will see that you get it back.”

“The Queen said,” and Sam could hear Frodo actually smiling as he spoke, though his back was to him, “that this phial once held the perfume her bridegroom gave her for their wedding.  So you see it goes a very long way back.”

“I will be most careful of it,” Ionwë said very softly. 

“May the grace of the Powers be with you,” Northlight said with uplifted hand. 

Ionwë bowed his head and lifted his hand in return, then turned for the road.  When he was well out of sight, the others went inside the house and closed the door.

“Well!” Sam said.  “What do you make of THAT?”

“Do you really think we should trust him?” Anemone said.  “He may up to some sort of trick.”

“He took a great chance,” Northlight said.  “Never would I have thought it of him.”

“I think he can be trusted,” Raven said, to Sam’s utter surprise.  “He loves Northlight.  I have seen that more than once.  As well he might, for the reasons he gave, and more, although his guilt will not allow Northlight to truly befriend him, and keeps him at arm’s length.  And his nephews are fond of him, and he of them; I have seen that also.”

“It just seems funny to me,” Sam said.  “It’s like with that Gollum maybe.  Mister Frodo was good to him, and spared his life when it would of made more sense not to, and then that Stinker turned on him and betrayed him like the stinking little rat he was.”

“But there was the Ring then,” Frodo pointed out.  “Ionwë does not have that to sway him.”

“What will we do now?” Amaryllis spoke up.  “What if they climb in the windows and cut all our throats with their daggers when we’re asleep?  Or set the house on fire with us tied up inside?  Or commit unspeakable actions on us, and then hack us up to tiny bits?  And then go out and murder our friends and cousins in their beds, even their little babies?  Oh, I wish I’d never been born!”

She was weeping and trembling all over and Northlight put his arms around her.

“Don’t be afraid, little one,” he said caressing her hair once more.  “Remember our light?  It will keep all evil from the house.”

“Granddad,” she turned her head toward Frodo, “you shouldn’t have given him your light!  It was bigger than ours!  Why didn’t you just let Daddy give him ours?  Oh, I wish at least ONE of us was big!  If only Uncle Guilin would come out…but they might murder him too and leave his body out for wild beasts to devour.…”

“Your imagination is vivid, my child,” Northlight said, “but I do not think they will try anything.  They know what would happen to them if they did, and I do not think they are so anxious to go back to prison and this time be put to death for their crimes.”

“That didn’t stop them before,” she pointed out.  Sam had been thinking exactly the same thing.

“They are older now,” Northlight said, “and they know what it is to live in prison, and be hated by all, and exist in exile.  I think they are not brave enough to take the chance since Ionwë refused to join them.  I fear more for him than for us.  But if it will relieve your fears, little one, I will stay awake in the night and stand guard over the house.”

“But you could not even defend yourself on the road,” Amaryllis whimpered. 

“I was taken by surprise then,” Northlight said.

“Amaryllis,” Raven said, “you must not speak to your father that way.  I have faith in his ability to protect us, and so should you.”

“I come from a long line of warriors,” Anemone pointed out to her granddaughter.  “And although I no longer have my powers, and am not so young anymore, I have been known to use my wits to get out of a tight spot.  And here is Sam, who fought a giant monster spider, who was willing to face down Ionwë to defend us.  I truly do not think he is afraid of anything.”

Sam felt himself blush.  He saw Frodo grin proudly. 

“That’s right, I’m not,” Sam said sticking his chest out a bit, at the same time feeling a little silly.  “And if anything tries to get in here, they’ll have Samwise Gamgee to answer to.”

“Just the same,” Amaryllis sniffled, “I wish SOMEBODY still had their powers around here.  I wish I had some.  And that I was brave.  But I’m not.” 

“We’re brave when we need to be,” Sam pointed out to her.  “I didn’t think I was, till I had to be.  Then I found things in me I didn’t know was there.”

“I’m only brave when I DON’T need to be,” Amaryllis said wiping her nose on her sleeve.  Her mother stood with an arm around her shoulders.

“You should not have been at the door listening, my love,” she said.  “I’ve told you about that, and now you see why.  When you stand and listen where you should not, your ear is apt to be stung.  Would you like to go and stay with Uncle Moonrise and Aunt Sweetfern tonight?  Your father will take you if you like, and then come back here.”

“What if they’re lying in ambush out there right now?” the girl said. 

“I’ve my dagger and my light,” Northlight said.  “Come, my Bud.  It’s not far, and you will feel safer with sea-folk who have their powers yet.”

“Very well, but we should leave the light,” Amaryllis said.  “Maybe the dagger will be enough.  But you had better hold it out in front of you with the blade sticking out, so if anybody comes skulking in the night, you can run them right through.”

She made a dramatic gesture of “running someone through”, and her father chuckled. 

“It’s a fine thing,” Sam said, after the two went out in the darkness, Anemone standing with the glass to light their way, “when they got to go and get a little lass so upset and frightened.  I know I’m not responsible for it or nothin’, M--Frodo, but it’s a bad feelin’ to know that if I hadn’t of come, this wouldn’t be goin’ on.”

“I can understand why you feel that way, Sam,” Frodo said.  “But she will feel safer with her Aunt and Uncle.  And I am happier than I could ever tell you that you are here.  Would you like me to stay with you tonight?  Anemone can sleep with Raven.”

“I’d love for you to stay with me, but I don’t like to take Northlight from his wife, nor make Anemone sleep alone.”

“Northlight will not mind sleeping in Raven’s room for one night.  And tomorrow I will take us all to the Palace to stay until this all blows over.  I hate to do it, but I cannot take chances with my family.”

Northlight was a while getting back, and Raven began to get fretful.  Anemone said he was probably just explaining the situation to his brother, but her brow creased a bit.  Frodo brought the light out to the terrace once more, and sat there watching, Sam sitting beside him. 

And then they saw a strange sight.  Northlight was returning, along with Moonrise…and the biggest dog either of them had ever seen, trotting along between them.

“Where in creation did THAT come from?” Sam exclaimed.  Frodo laughed.  “It’s not….?”

“Ebbtide?  No.  Remember Lord Elrond’s stone dog I told you about, that Moonrise copied for Northlight?”

“You mean…” Sam felt ready to fall on the floor.  “That’s…”

“You are now witness to the true powers of the Sea,” Frodo grinned as Northlight and his brother brought the enormous canine to the terrace.  “Do not worry, he will not bite.  Will you, lad?”  He patted the big dog on the head.

“Now that’s an eye opener and no mistakin’,” Sam said under his breath.

“Could I venture to say you are all safe for the night?” Moonrise said.  “And Ebbtide and I will hunt down these foul perpetrators of evilness and make short work of their mangy hides.  And we know just how to do it, don’t we, little brother?”  He winked at Northlight and made a soft little throaty growl.

The dog settled himself on his haunches, and even as Sam looked, he seemed to have resumed his stone form.  Sam rubbed his eyes and looked again. 

“To any outside observer,” Northlight said to him, “he looks like a real dog.  I do not believe they would seriously wish to come any closer.”

Sam shook his head, completely dumbfounded for a full moment.

“My old Gaffer would never believe this in a million years,” he said at last.

“Well,” he said as he and Frodo were getting into their nightclothes in the guest room, “I s’pose there’s somethin’ good comes of everything, even bad things.  I didn’t expect you to give him your glass…even though it’s just like you to do it.  It seems now you’ve finally let go of what happened.  Yes, I could see you were still keepin’ a bit of it with you, and I can understand that too.  But now you’ve let go of the last of it, and now maybe he can finally be at peace with himself and so can you.  It was a long time comin’ and no mistakin’, but better late than never as my mum used to say.  And it was well worth crossin’ the Seas for.” 

XIV. Flights of Stairs

In the morning a pair of armed guards came to escort the family to the Palace. They commented admiringly on the stone dog, and Sam could have sworn it looked pleased with itself.

Amaryllis was in better spirits, especially when told that Silivren and Little Iorhael would be coming to stay at the Palace for a while also. Sam managed to cheer them all telling about the time Merry-lad and Pippin-lad lost their fine new clothes betting on a pony-race, and had to walk through the night nekkid as the day they were born.

“Them two fools spent the night out in the woods,” he told them as they drove down the meadow road, “coverin’ theirselves with leaves to keep warm, and in the morning, each one took two branches and held one in front and the other in back, and set out through the town, having to stop and scratch from time to time, ‘cos they was covered with bug-bites from head to toe. Then they spied some lasses’ clothes hangin’ on a line, and ‘borrowed’ a couple of dresses, and also a couple bonnets the better to hide their faces. So there they was, walkin’ along, swingin’ their hips and gigglin’ and chatterin’ in high voices about lads and nice dresses and what have you so’s folks would think they really was lasses. And as they was walkin’ home, some lads tried to flirt with ‘em till they discovered who they was, then the lads started laughin’ and carryin’ on, yankin’ their skirts up till Merry-lad and Pippin-lad had to put up their fists and fight ‘em off, and then along come the Goatcloset lads that they’d lost their new suits to, and if they didn’t have a time howlin’ at poor Merry-lad and Pippin-lad in lasses’ clothes punchin’ one minute and scratchin’ theirselves like hounds the next….”

The young uns laughed fit to bust and so did some of the elders, until the Palace loomed up in all its dazzling white splendor on the hilltop in the morning sunlight. Sam had not seen it up this close before, and thought to himself that it even made the Hall of Kings seem ashamed of itself.

“Allow me,” Moonrise said and he hefted Sam up as easily as if he’d been little Perhael’s size. Northlight lifted Frodo, very gently and carefully, and the others followed slowly behind.

“This is the flight of steps where I fell,” Frodo said to Sam as they ascended the first. “I’m still not sure how it happened. I suppose I was thinking how sweet and proud and happy Lyrien looked with her little newborn in her arms, and how lovingly Perion was gazing at them, I just plain was not looking where I was going.”

Sam shook his head in consternation. The flight in question was a round one, divided in two, with a small fountain in the middle. It met in one broad stairway divided by boxes of flowers of eye-piercing color, scarlet stars and purple bells and yellow sun-bursts and blue spears and pink-and-white hanging clusters, none of which Samwise Gamgee, the most famous gardener in the world, knew the names of. But to be sure there were rose-trees, and ferns, and white lilies, and red hollyhocks, and others that he did recognize. Butterflies and hummingbirds abounded, and if there wasn’t a snow-white peacock in a low-hanging cherry tree! There were dozens of windows pointed at the top, and the door was made of a polished reddish-brown wood with a working of bronze that looked to be forming a pair of wings, flanked by two crystal lamps, and above it was a marble relief swan with spread wings. And above it all, roofs of gold, and towers with little railings all around, and pointed gold domes on top, and the sun was fair blinding on them. 

Sam opened his mouth to say he wished his old Gaffer could see all this, but not a word would come out.

And there was Lord Celeborn once more, standing with his Queen, and his daughter and granddaughter, and Lord Elrond and his lady and his lady mother, and Mister Gandalf, now known as Olórin, with his lady Ríannor and their son Arasirion. And lovely Mistress Lyrien with Perion and their little one Perhael.

And there were also Ionwë, with his sister Arasinya and her two lads, one of whom was on the floor with Perhael playing with little wooden soldiers and horses and a small castle made of blocks. Her other son, who looked to be somewhere between Amaryllis and Little Iorhael in age, was talking with Arasirion. It was the first time Sam had seen Arasinya up close. She and her brother both had the same fine-drawn features and blue-grey eyes, although her hair was a shade or two darker and shinier than his, her skin with a more healthy rosy glow to it, and she held her head and shoulders higher and straighter than he did. He looked as though he could do with a bit of sun, hisself.

“I am so thrilled to meet you,” Arasinya said to Sam as they were introduced, and he thought to himself: Now here was a lady and no mistakin’.  “My brother told me how you faced him down single-handed last night in defense of the others, and I was completely taken aback. You are every bit as courageous as your legend.”

Sam felt himself blushing, and saw Ionwë look away sheepishly. Here was a lady who didn’t mind saying what she was thinkin’, but knew how to do it so’s not to put folks off.

“These are my sons,” she said as the older, brown-haired boy approached. “This is Jolyan, and that one on the floor is Ninniach. He is named in honor of Northlight, who used the name Ninniach when he first appeared on the Island. But, I suppose you knew that already?”

“Yes, my lady,” Sam said smiling. Ninniach was a bit older than Perhael. He had caught hold of his feet, trying to spin on his behind. His mother bade him get up and come meet Sam. He grinned a little cheekily at Sam and extended a hand to him, saying, “Are you a Squirrel?”

“Beggin’ your pardon?” Sam said with raised eyebrows. Arasinya laughed.

“Of course he isn’t a Squirrel, silly,” she said. “He’s a hobbit, just like the Prince. ‘Squirrels’ are what some folks here call Wood-elves,” she explained to Sam, “along with ‘Harp-pluckers.’ Neither name is necessarily complimentary.”

Soon Guilin arrived with his family, all in a state of excitement, especially Turin—something was Going On. There was much flurry deciding where to put everyone, and the children got to pick out their rooms, which was an immense thrill for them. And Anemone said that during their stay at the Palace, Sam and Frodo might room together, and she would sleep with Tilwen. Amaryllis and Silivren, of course, would room together, and Castiel with them, since one of the enormous beds was big enough for three, and the three little girls squealed with delight and Amaryllis proposed a race to see which would get to the bed the fastest. Later Sam heard her telling Castiel and Lúthien the story about Merry-lad and Pippin-lad in lasses' clothes.

After breakfast next morning, it was decided that Olórin, Guilin, Galendur and Northlight would all go with Moonrise and Ebbtide to hunt down the rogue Elves. Ionwë asked if he might go also, but the Queen bade him stay, saying he had already done his part in going out alone in the night to warn the others, and she feared for his life if he went this time. Perhaps she would send out another hunting-party if this one were unsuccessful and he could join that one later. He seemed relieved. The children wanted to see Moonrise and Ebbtide turn into dogs, but they said with twinkling eyes that they couldn’t do it with people looking, only in secret.

“I don’t really believe they can turn into dogs,” Jolyan said with a wise look at the others. “I think they’re pulling our leg. I bet they can’t do it at all.”

“Oh, they can,” said Tamarind, Moonrise’s youngest son. “I’ve seen it for myself. They can turn into anything they want. I bet your dad can’t do that.”

“Yes,” Frodo said, “I’ve seen it too. Rest assured they will hunt them down without mercy.”

“I’m not sure how merciful I can be now,” Northlight said in a low voice, glancing toward the doorway from whence the girls’ voices were issuing, “after seeing the way they frightened my little daughter last night. That is something I shall not soon forget. I would not go, for that reason, save that I feel I should.”

“Then you should heed that voice and not go,” Guilin said. “The rest of us can take care of them, and you can bet your grandmother’s lace shawl that we will.”

“My grandmother hadn’t a lace shawl, nor aught else to wear other than her long and flowing hair,” Northlight said grinning. “But I shall go nevertheless. When do we set out?”

“Ionwë,” Lord Elrond said, “what precisely did Beleg and Raegbund say to you? What did they propose doing?”

“They were extremely vague,” Ionwë said. “They just asked me if I wanted to have a bit of fun. I think it’s Northlight they really want. But I wouldn’t put anything else past them either.”

“I have heard reports of theft in some of the villages,” the Queen said, “but if there were violent incidents, I did not hear of them. However, the fact that they were together would be reason enough to apprehend them. It is in direct violation of the conditions of their release. They were strictly forbidden to associate with one another.”

“Why would they want Northlight?” Sam reasoned. “They’d of been put to death but for him. I should think they’d be grateful.”

“One would think so,” Frodo said. “But if they wanted only Northlight, why would they wait until you arrived to come out of hiding, Sam? We are all in danger. I wish I might go, myself, but of course that is out of the question now.”

“Perhaps they wish to get their revenge on Northlight by cutting the rest of you down in front of him,” Olórin said. “They may hate him simply for being all that they are not, and may harbor some desire, of which they may be only vaguely aware themselves, to bring him to their level by destroying all he loves best, just to see if they can. The ways of the wicked are hard to understand, but they are thorough and utterly ruthless. We must take no chances with them.”

“I think you are right about them,” Ionwë said. “Especially Beleg.”

“Why did you ever go about with him, uncle?” Jolyan asked. His mother shushed him, but he did not look her way.

“Because he was bold and brave and daring,” Ionwë said, “and seemed to care what no one thought, and did things his own way, and took what he wanted and commanded respect. He was that bad boy other lads secretly wish they dared to be. I was flattered that he would even want aught to do with me. He was often cruel and I was afraid of him also, yet there was something in me that was drawn to him as a moth to flame. It is hard to explain his fascination; it was evil, and frightening, and yet extremely alluring.”

“Yes…I know something of that,” Northlight said very softly. Ionwë looked at him and nodded slightly. Apparently he knew of Darkfin.

“Was he a Squirrel?” Ninniach asked from the corner where he had resumed his game with Perhael. Sam started. He had forgotten the little ’uns were still in the room.

“Of course not, dear,” Arasinya said. “Why don’t you and Perhael go out to the garden to play? It’s a lovely day out.”

After some more deliberating, the hunting party set out, with many exhortations from the womenfolk to be very careful. Arthion and Turin begged to be allowed to go, but Guilin told them very sternly not to even think about it. They turned away muttering and grumbling darkly about the unfairness of life in general until Arasirion informed them that his mother had a mare that was due to foal very soon, perhaps today, and offered to take them down to the horse farm. After a bit more grousing, they skipped off with him.

“Ionwë,” Galadriel said, “I have decided to grant you passage to Aman if you should wish to go and make a new start in a land where you are not known. I know you do not truly enjoy copy-work, and if you do not mind my saying so, I think you need to get out in the light and work in the fresh air. You are far too pale and peaked, and your eyes are bloodshot. I will send word to my kin to find and give you work more suited to you.”

“Thank you so much, my Lady,” Ionwë said. “But if it’s all the same to you, I would prefer to stay here. I am much attached to my sister’s family, who are all that has kept me going all this time. And while it’s true that I don’t enjoy the work, I have learnt a great deal from the books you have had me to copy. And Northlight gave me work also, and the books he had me copy were surprisingly interesting and different. I regret now that I never finished my college education, and proved such a great disappointment to my parents. I wish I might go back and change all that, but I cannot.”

“No, one cannot change the past,” the Queen said, “but one can have a hand in shaping one’s future. I see you have made up your mind to do so, and would help you in whatever way I may to set and guide your feet upon that steep and upward pathway.”

“I have a proposition for you, Ionwë,” Ríannor said, and Sam started as she came through the door, and he was floored once again by her dark and haunting beauty, so very like to Raven's. “I discussed it with my husband this morning, and he is in favor. How would you like to come and work on our horse-farm?”

Ionwë flushed a little. “Why, my Lady,” he stammered. “That’s so…so kind of you to offer…but the thing is…I know next to nothing of horses. I can ride, but that’s about the extent of my knowledge.”

“You will learn as you go along, and Arasirion can teach you, if you are not above taking instruction from a lad,” Ríannor said. “It is not easy work, but the Queen is right, it will do you good to get away from those books and get out into the fresh air and use your muscles. And if you learn well and work faithfully, you may soon earn a horse of your own.”

Ionwë looked down and although his back was turned, Sam was certain he was blinking back tears.

“This is so good of you,” he said almost inaudibly. “I will take you up on your offer, my Lady, and start work as soon as you need me.”

“Olórin will bring you to the farm when it is deemed safe for you to leave the Palace,” Ríannor said. “There are rooms above the stable you may have for your lodging.  You may bring what you like to furnish them.”

Sam and Frodo went out to the gardens later on, admiring the flowers and discussing them, Frodo naming off all the unfamiliar ones, then they sat on a bench under a spreading tree, smoking their pipes and talking quietly. But for their worry about Northlight, it would have been a very happy time.

“I can see why you’re proud of him,” Sam said. “I know I’ve said that before, but it’s so. He’s a bit of a miracle, he is.”

“More than a bit,” Frodo smiled. “I suppose the barrier between him and Ionwë will be breeched now, and they can be friends at last. I didn’t even know Northlight was giving him books to copy.  I suppose he thought I would not approve. I don't know that I would have, at that. And Sam, I do very much appreciate you telling those stories to the girls this morning. I think it helped take their minds off what is going on.  I hope they find them quickly, and that no one gets hurt.”

“Me too,” Sam said.

They spent some time, after luncheon, watching the children play, talking with the little girls, telling more stories, going to see the Queen’s grotto with the little statue of Nimrodel for which Anemone had posed. She had described it as “respectable,” Sam remembered. Well, Sea-folk had a different idea of respectable than Shire-folk and no mistaking. The statue was wearing a gown of sorts, but so short and clingy, it was a mite hard to tell where she left off and it began. Still and all it was a beautiful piece. Especially in this setting, with the water whispering so soft and sad and gentle behind her, as though it was the tears of Nienna all come together in one place, saltless and purified, plentiful and blessed. And her hair flowing all down and down her back as though it was just water in stone form, and her face so pure and wistful and dreaming and full of fair hope with slightly downcast eyes and parted lips, one hand raised to put back a lock from her forehead, that gesture caught just perfect, one knee bent, the pretty foot turned just so, with all the tiny and delicate bones in view…well, it scarcely seemed a stone maiden at all, but a real one just caught at the right moment, born of the waters and the dust of all mysteries, captured in time…and he remembered Mister Frodo saying that was just exactly how she had been sitting by the sea-side, the very first day of their meeting.

And Sam found himself falling in love again, not with Anemone exactly, nor yet with Nimrodel, but with something so beautiful, so timeless, so divine, so tender and seductive and inclusive, that it couldn’t be named, nor drawn, nor sung, nor summoned, nor dreamed. It was just there, holding him in its embrace. 

And much later, Sam knew he had glimpsed the Door that stood before the stairway that would lead him into the presence of the Gift, and he knew he would walk it himself…with none but his master by his side, and he would not be afraid, nor spend so much time looking back at those who would be left behind in the rainbowed gardens of brightness, however dear and miraculous they might be.

XV. Needle in a Haystack

As Sam and Frodo returned to their room to get ready for supper, they saw that flowers had been put into every vase in sight, and that other receptacles had been brought in and filled with flowers also, and set on every article of furniture that could hold them, and garlands had been draped across the head-board and foot-board of their bed and over the windows and doorways. The hobbits looked at each other with raised eyebrows, then heard a stifled giggle.  Glancing toward the window, Sam could see the tops of four small heads behind the garden shrubbery:  raven-black, red-gold, chestnut, and yellow-gold. 

Near nightfall, the hunting-party returned, tired, dirty, hungry, and a bit cross, having failed to bag their quarry, or even pick up any sign of them.  They had given the “dogs” Raegbund’s dagger to sniff, starting out at Ionwë’s flat, and tracking the scent well into the forest.  But these two had been living in the wild for a considerable time, obviously, and knew how to cover their tracks.  Lord Elrond told the hunters not to be discouraged; the Island was vast, at least to anyone on foot, and the fugitives could be anywhere. 

“Might as well try lookin’ for a needle in a haystack,” Sam said as they sat in the garden after supper, he and Frodo with their pipes, the children being prepared for bed.  “Or two needles.  And it's a mighty big stack.”

“It could well be,” Galendur said, “that after Ionwë refused to join them, they turned and went back where they came from, and are sitting there now, laughing up their sleeves at the idea of us gadding about on a wild-goose chase.”

“Well, we must not take chances,” Northlight said.  “Not when we have families to consider.”

“No,” said Lady Elwing, “they have not gone back.  They are out there.”

“Oh?” Olórin said.  “Where?  Why did you not tell us before?”

“Because I do not know where they are…now,” Elwing said in her soft voice.  “I know only that they are about.  Perhaps it will come to me in time.”

“I will consult my glass,” Frodo said.  “Perhaps it can show us something.”

“Yes, do that,” Sam said.  “Don’t know why we didn’t think of that before.  A pity we haven’t one of those palantir things.  Maybe it could show us.”

Frodo asked Northlight to retrieve his glass, which Ionwë had returned to him that morning, from his room.  He took it into a little chapel in the Palace, set it on an altar and knelt before it, his lips moving.  Sam sat on a small bench at the back of the chapel, motionless and silent, waiting.  And the glass grew filled with light, which grew ever brighter, until the dark little room was full of a soft glow.  Sam could see silver candle-sticks, a vase of flowers, and a tapestry depicting the Two Trees, hanging on the western wall.  There was but one window, and it had colored glass, bits of it arranged into the form of a tree also. 

“I can see them,” Mister Frodo whispered after a few moments.  Sam stood up stiffly, and went to stand behind his friend, looking downward. 

“Where are they?” he said.  “I can’t see naught, meself.”

“I’m not sure,” Mister Frodo said.  “They are in a dark place in the forest.  I see a tall one with dark hair and a very square chin.  Ionwë described Beleg thus, if you remember.  And the other with sandy hair and a bump on his nose where it was broken and failed to heal properly.  That's what gave him his name, you know--that nose.  No one seems to know his real name.  Bows and arrows are lying on the ground beside them.  They’re sitting before a small fire eating a stew of wild coney and vegetables…stolen, no doubt.  I can smell it.  They are talking, but I cannot understand what they are saying.  Hmm…Raegbund is laughing now.  I think they are aware that they are being tracked, and are congratulating themselves with having eluded their pursuers.”

“A fine thing,” Sam muttered.  “Well, at least we know they’re out there, and up to no good.  But how to find them?”

“I wish I could hear their words,” Frodo said. 

“Maybe…if you turned the stopper on the glass around a bit, the sound might get louder?” Sam suggested.  Frodo laughed a little.

“Sam,” he said.  Then he sat in silence for a moment, watching intently.  " I think they are somewhere near the cove,” he said at last with a shudder.  “I think they do not know where we live exactly, but they do know Northlight lives in that general direction.  They are biding their time, waiting until we are certain the danger is past, to strike.  But they are not aware that we are at the Palace.”

“Well, that’s a fine state of affairs!” Sam exclaimed.  “I s’pose we have that Ionwë to thank for our lives, then.  But are we to stay here till the end of ‘em?  It’s a fine and splendid place, for sure, but I know you must want to go back home as soon as possible.”

The next day the hunters set out once more, this time near the cove and surrounding areas.  Ionwë begged Northlight not to go with them, saying he feared for his life and offering to go in his place, and Sam hoped Northlight would heed…but obviously he had somehow inherited Frodo’s stubborn streak, and he would go.  But this time, Ionwë was allowed to go with them, although the Queen still asserted that he was not in good shape for the expedition, and fretted a bit about him after he had gone.  It tickled Sam a bit to see the way she had stepped in where Ionwë’s mother had failed.  And yes, he had to admit it:  he was a trifle worried about the chap, hisself.

In the meantime, it was not dull at the Palace, with all the youngsters about the place, clamoring for more stories, telling tales of their own, singing songs, showing off, teaching the hobbits some of their games, with plenty of youthful enthusiasm.  And they were treated to a sparring-match between Little Iorhael and Arasirion.  Iorhael was the son of the finest sparring-master on the Island, who had taught him well, but Arasirion was the son of Gandalf, and although he was a few years younger, the lads were evenly matched as to both size and skill.  Iorhael won the first match and Arasirion the second, the lasses cheering shrilly for both.  Lúthien smiled on both lads, but it seemed it was the dashing Arasirion at whom she smiled brightest…not noticing the way Iorhael looked so wistfully at her when she did so, Sam noted.  He only hoped she wouldn’t end up spoiling the friendship between them.  She was no Honeysuckle Goatcloset, for certain!

And it was lovely to see the way Lord Celeborn was going about getting to know his daughter all over again, the way he looked at her, after being separated from her for such a long, long time…seeing how she had been healed from the terrible things that had befallen her, her joy in her family and surroundings, her delight in life in general.  It was as if he were seeing her as she had once been, yet with a difference:  she was like a beautiful window behind which the sun had come up, filling all she was with new riches and refinement, purifying and outlining, absorbing all her old, vital, maiden colors into the white fire of divinity.  And Sam rejoiced in being able to tell her what was going on with her elder daughter, who had a Lúthien also, Arwen having named her own daughter thusly upon learning that she had a baby sister so called.  And she had also an Elwing and a Celebrían, along with her son Eldarion.  A strange thing:  Elwing was the one fair-haired one among them.  Celebrían much favored her father, which was odd to see, while Lúthien did look the most like her mother, and folks said that the original Lúthien had indeed been reborn….

And Sam was happy to have Mister Frodo to hisself at night, though at the same time feeling a trifle guilty to be doing Anemone out of a husband.  But she pointed out that Tilwen was being done out of a husband also, and would have to sleep alone for a while, if Anemone didn’t keep her company.  She couldn’t very well do such a thing to her best friend, now could she? she said with twinkling eyes.  Sam smiled gratefully at her, and also wondered how she would make do when Mister Frodo was no longer about.  A sad thing it would be for her…but then she would still have her family and friends all about her....

But once more the hunters’ quarry managed to escape, and the next day was the same.  They was tricksy devils and no mistakin’, Sam had to admit.  Mister Frodo consulted the glass again, and sat looking into it a long time, this time with Anemone and Northlight looking on.

“I can see a farmer’s wife complaining to her husband about her garden-patch being raided,” Mister Frodo said after a while.  “Wait…I know her.  Her name is Anira…”

“I know her too,” Anemone said, sitting up straight, then looking at Sam.  “She and a friend of hers stole a dress-design from me, a very long time ago.  I painted a pirate-ballad on her back, when I still had my powers.”

“I remember that!” Sam said.  “I told Rosie about it, and we both laughed our heads off.  And she married a farmer, did she?”

“I told her what I did one day,” Anemone said smiling.  “I expected her to be angry, but she laughed and said it served her and Lissë right.  We’re all friends now.  I buy vegetables from Anira sometimes, or trade her honey or wine for them.”

“So Beleg and Raegbund are in that vicinity now?” Northlight said.  “Where exactly is the farm located?”

“About three and a half miles south of the Cove,” Frodo said.  “So they are not far, if they have not moved away from that spot.”

“They’re goin’ to strike at the cottage, all right,” Sam muttered.  “I hope that stone dog bites a huge chunk out of the both of ‘em.”

“It might discourage Raegbund, if it were only him,” Northlight said.  “But it would probably only increase Beleg’s determination.  He’s the sort who would stop at nothing, I think, to get what he wanted.  He would figure a way around it.”

“So what do we do now?” Sam asked.  “This just don’t bode well at all.”

All fell silent, Frodo staring at the glass intently, the others looking at him.  And then Anemone suddenly sat up straight.

“I have an idea,” she said.

XVI. What Amaryllis Smelled

Anemone’s plan was simple, inspired by an earlier discussion of the Play.  The family would be at the cottage…only, they wouldn’t be.  Moonrise’s eldest son, Crystal, had the silvery hair and could be mistaken for Northlight if one didn’t look too closely.  His cousin, Ebbtide’s daughter Whitegull, despite her name, could pass for Raven at a distance.  Crystal’s youngest sister, Lotus, who was about Amaryllis’ size and approximate age, would stand in for Amaryllis.  And Summershine, being the dead ringer for Anemone that she was, would portray her grandmum.

“What about us?” Sam said, feeling mighty curious about who would play him.

“You and Frodo have been taken to the Palace,” Anemone said smiling, “and there you will stay.  All the others will be lurking about, watching, and when the villains appear…well, they won’t know what hit them.”

“Does Lotus HAVE to be me?” wailed Amaryllis, and Sam guessed that she and her cousin were on the outs with each other.  “Why can’t I be me?  I’m not afraid any more. Please please please please please please please?”

“No, dearie,” Anemone said reaching out to caress her granddaughter’s hair.  “Lotus has powers you do not.  We won’t risk your life out there.”

“It’s not fair,” Amaryllis said and sank back with a pout, her arms folded.  “Why does it have to be Lotus of all people?  Why can’t it at least be Butterfly?”

“Butterfly has golden hair, remember?” Northlight smiled.  “Lotus has your color, and could look like you to anyone who doesn’t know better.”

“Lotus looks NOTHING like me, hair or no hair,” Amaryllis grumbled.  “And she gives herself such airs, like she’s the queen of the world or something.  She’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“Don’t be so silly,” Raven said.  “We are protecting your life, little lady.  And Lotus would be glad to do so, I know.”

“She’d better not get into my things,” Amaryllis muttered.  “She’d better not wear my pearl bracelet and lose it.  And she had BETTER stay out of my diary!”

“She won’t get into your things,” Moonrise said smiling.  “She won’t even be at your house, little Elf.  But just to ease your mind, if you will tell me where you keep your diary, I’ll tell Summershine and she will hide it for you.  You do trust Summershine, don’t you?”

“I’d trust her with the depths of my inmost soul,” Amaryllis said.  “But I wouldn’t trust Lotus as far as I could throw her.  I can’t believe the two of them are sisters.”

“That’s enough, Amaryllis,” Raven said. 

“And Crystal’s wife and Whitegull’s mate are going to be less than thrilled,” Amaryllis pointed out, “about them pretending to be husband and wife, and living in the same house.  I smell trouble brewing already.”

“They will be close by,” Northlight grinned, “to make sure their mates stay out of mischief.  Perhaps they’ll pretend to be birds.  Or snakes…or fishes in the fountain.  Or...spiders.  Big horrible ones.  You wouldn't want to be there.”

“Errrgggghhhh,” Silivren shuddered.  Sam found himself nodding agreement.  Castiel nibbled at a fingernail, her eyes very wide.

“I want to go and watch, at least,” Amaryllis pleaded.  “I could hide and watch.  It would be so interesting.  It’s no fun around here.”

“You've seemed to be having lots of fun with your friends since you came,” Anemone pointed out.

“I was only pretending,” Amaryllis said defiantly.  

Silivren stared at her in open-mouthed shock and looked at Castiel, who looked as astounded as her cousin.

“Somehow I don’t quite believe that,” Raven said suppressing a smile.

“Well…maybe I was having some fun,” Amaryllis said.  “But I’m having a hideous time today.”

“Poor dear,” Anemone said shaking her head.

“And poor Lotus,” Frodo said pulling a sad face.  “She didn’t even get to come to the Palace, and you did.”

“She could have come,” Amaryllis said, “if she’d wanted to.  And she’d better stay out of my things.”

“So where is this world-famous diary?” Moonrise asked her.

“It’s in the topmost of my chest of drawers,” Amaryllis said primly, “buried under my…things.  And it's not world-famous, only I know what's in it.  And I'd much prefer to keep it that way.”

“I’ll tell Summershine then,” her uncle promised her.  “In the meantime, I’m sure you’ll have a less hideous time here, if you’ll make up your mind to it.”

“Well, I’m ready to go back home,” Silivren said to her mother, tossing her head.  “Since some people seem to think we’re not good enough to associate with them any more.  What do you think, Castiel?”

“I agree with you,” her cousin said.  “I guess I know when I’m not wanted around here.  I really came to be with my sister and my nephew anyway, so there.”

“Perhael?” Amaryllis sniffed.  “Pooh.  He’s only a baby.”

“I’m not a baby,” Perhael spoke up from his corner where he was intently constructing a fort with blocks.

“He’s not a baby,” Castiel agreed.  Ninniach snickered traitorously, poking Perhael in the belly with a forefinger.  Perhael slapped his hand.

“Yes you are,” Amaryllis said.  “You still sit on your mummy’s lap.  Only babies do that.  I bet you still wear nappies.”

“That’s enough, Amaryllis,” Raven said darkly.

“He does not wear nappies,” Castiel said even more darkly.

“I don’t wear nappies,” Perhael said.  His chubby little face was getting considerable red.  Shy and quiet as he was, he plainly had a temper.

“I bet you do,” Amaryllis said with a little giggle.  “I bet you wear nappies with your name on them.  I bet you suck your thumb when nobody’s looking.”

“I don’t!” Perhael said, and suddenly he stood up and charged at Amaryllis like an angry little bull.  He flung himself at her and tackled her round the waist, and she laughed and tickled him under the arms.  He shrieked and tried to tickle her back, and soon they were rolling around on a rug like puppies, both of them giggling hysterically.  Ninniach and the other girls soon got in on it, then Jolyan and Iorhael and Arasirion came running in to see what all the racket was about, until Raven and Tilwen and Lyrien separated them all, telling them to take it outside.  After a short while, a game of hide-and-seek could be heard going on outdoors.

“Well!” Sam said after they had gone.  “Felt like I was back in time, for a minute there.”

“Not much difference between elf-children and hobbit-children after all,” Frodo agreed laughing a little.  “So…I think it is a good plan, do you?  Perhaps I can watch what goes on through the star-glass…and maybe influence them.  Perhaps if I project my thoughts toward Beleg and Raegbund, I can lead them somehow astray.”

They discussed the idea in more detail, and after several suggestions, debates, nitpicks, and quibbles, they decided to go with the original plan.  And after luncheon Moonrise departed, after once again promising Amaryllis to ask Summershine to hide the diary.

“He’ll probably forget,” she muttered after her uncle had gone.  “And Lotus will spread my inmost secrets all over the Island, and I’ll never be able to hold my head up again.  I’ll be doomed.”

“Those must be some very interesting secrets,” Frodo noted with a smile, and Sam wondered if the secrets had aught to do with a certain red-haired lad.  “But I shall influence him through the glass not to forget.  Then your inmost secrets will be quite safe, my love.”

Amaryllis smiled at him with profound gratitude.

The next morning Frodo said he would have to concentrate fully on the glass to see what was going on, so he could not have everyone gathered around.  So only Sam, Anemone and Northlight stayed in the room with him, along with Elrond.  They retreated to the elf-lord’s private study, which had a window facing northwest—this seeming to afford the best reception for the glass, since the Beacon lay in that direction.

Three pairs of blue eyes, one pair of brown and one pair of dark grey watched the glass intently, willing Beleg and Raegbund to appear.  After a quarter of an hour or so, Frodo murmured that he could see them now, finishing up the remains of a meal…roasted chicken this time.  He focused his thoughts on them as hard as he could, willing them in the direction of the cottage.  Sam willed them also, figuring two heads were better than one especially seeing as how there were two villains out there. 

“They’re on foot, walking up the mill-road,” Mister Frodo whispered after a while.  “Here comes someone.  It’s the miller’s son Imrathon, driving a wagon full of flour-sacks….” 

“I hope they don’t do him harm,” Sam said.  Northlight nodded, frowning.

“They are asking him if this is the road on which the Ringbearer lives,” Frodo said. 

“He surely won’t tell them,” Northlight said.

“Imrathon says yes, it is,” Frodo said.  “Normally he would not.  But I influenced him.  If he had not told, they would have gotten rough with him.”

“Well then!” Sam said, and didn’t know what else to say.

“He is telling them now,” Frodo said, “that the Ringbearers have been taken into the Queen’s protective custody at the Palace, but the others have gone back home.  Says he’s not sure what’s going on, just that they must be kept safe.  Beleg and Raegbund smile and nod, and say aye, that’s a good idea, you never know who or what might be out lurking about.  Then they thank Imrathon for the information, and salute him and go on their way.  Imrathon looks troubled and somewhat baffled.  Wondering why he told them what he did, of course.  He seems to be considering turning back to his father’s.  I tell him to wait until the others are well out of earshot, then go tell his father.”

“That’s good,” Sam said.

“Now they are going up the road, singing a song the words of which I don’t care to repeat.  Raegbund hurls a stone at a wild animal, misses, and laughs.  Oh…now a young maiden is coming up the road with a basket…”

“Oh no,” Anemone said. 

“I tell her to take a path leading up to a spring.  It’s Falathwen the wainwright’s daughter.  I tell her to stay by the spring, and she does so.  Now I tell her to take the meadow road.  Yes…she is going through the woods in the direction of the meadow road, and seems frightened….Now Beleg and Raegbund are passing her way.  I will them to look up so they will not notice her footprints.  Raegbund hears something in the woods and looks back her way, then glances to his companion with raised eyebrows.  I influence a pheasant to fly up suddenly and distract them….”

“A pity we can’t influence a bear to come along and make short work of ‘em,” Sam mumbled.  “Or can we?”

“If a bear were coming…but no.  If I had not seen a stuffed bear in an elf’s home once, I would not believe there were any bears on the Island.  But not to worry.  Our sea-kin will step in where wild beasts will not.”

“So what are they doing now?” Anemone asked.

“Still walking,” Frodo said.  “We will have a long wait, I fear, before they get to the cottage, since they are on foot.  They have about three and a half miles to go yet.  But I must not take my eyes from them, in case they should do more mischief along the way….”

Another quarter of an hour went by before Frodo had anything of interest to report, and Sam felt his eyelids getting heavy, but he fought to stay awake, since he was supposed to be helping to influence the scoundrels.  Anemone went to get them something to eat.  Northlight sat in grim silence, and Sam wondered what was going through his mind.  His composure was admirable.  Sam looked up at Lord Elrond, who was looking down at a book.  The elf-lord noticed the hobbit looking at him and smiled.

“I doubt you were expecting this much drama when you came to the Island, Master Samwise?” he said.

“Well, no, I weren’t,” Sam admitted.  “But now that I’m here, I s’pose I must take whatever comes, whether good or ill.  And I’m not one whit sorry for it, neither.  What’s goin’ on now, M—Frodo?”

“I can see Crystal,” he said, “talking with Moonrise.  Whitegull is with Lotus in the garden.  Summershine is with little Starbright and Peregrin on the terrace.  They are admiring the stone dog….”

“They ain’t scared of it?” Sam said.

“Not in the slightest,” Frodo smiled.  “Starbright is trying to climb on its back.”

“Who’ll mind them while Mistress Summershine is at the cottage?” Sam asked.

“They will stay with their grandmum Sweetfern,” Frodo said.  “Now Lotus goes up and catches little Peregrin up and swings him around.  She’s acting a good deal like Amaryllis, I must say….Ah, now I can see them.  They are on the other side of the bridge.…”

“Oh no,” gasped Sam.  “You’ll tell the others they’re there, Mister Fr—I mean, Frodo?”

“They already know,” Frodo said.  “And Beleg and Raegbund look ready to cross the bridge.”

XVII. An End and a Beginning

“Now that,” Beleg said to his companion, as they watched the tiny lady in the ankle-length pink gown, singing as she removed a large veil from her wide hat and hung it in a small shed next to five large beehives, “is the daintiest little morsel I’ve seen in many and many a day.”

“And that is the fish-boy’s mother?” Raegbund said.  “And the Ringbearer’s wife?  Amazing.  Rather small, isn’t she?”

“Of course she’s small, idiot,” Beleg said.  “But she has the shape and bearing of a young lady.  The Ringbearer did well, I do say.”

“I’ve seen the Ringbearer’s lady before, from a distance,” Raegbund said.  “Seemed she was somewhat plumper.  Perhaps that is her daughter.”

“Well, I mean to have her, whether or no,” Beleg said.  “She’s an even fairer specimen than that wench from the village.”

“You mean…Calathiel?” Raegbund said, and Beleg glared at him.  Raegbund looked away guiltily.

‘Tis many a lad
And many a lass
Who’d a chance at true loving
And let it soon pass.
Full many a lad
And many a lass
Let a chance at true love
Just as the spring pass!

In this fair month of May
Let us laugh and be gay
Let us frolic and play
And sing all the day:
Tra la la la lee
Fa la la fa lay
Tra la la la lee
Fa la la fa lay!

Let us now sing and dance
And make sweet romance
Each lad and each lass
Upon the green grass
Tra la la la lee
Fa la la fa lay
Tra la la la lee
Fa la la fa lay!

“Laying it on thick, isn’t she,” Crystal remarked in amusement as he watched his sister from the window, plucking oranges and laying them in a bushel basket at her feet as she sang.  “She needs but a garland of flowers in her hair and a little lamb or two gamboling about.”

“And a more attractive swain than that one coming up behind her,” laughed Whitegull.  “Ugh!  I thought Elves were all wondrous fair to behold?”

“That one may have been once,” Crystal said, “but evidently he’s no Squirrel, and living in the wild did naught for his complexion. Positively orcish he looks, not that I ever saw an orc.”

“I’m glad I cannot smell him from here,” his cousin said wrinkling her pretty nose.  “And that one yonder with the sandy hair is not much improvement.  Where is Lotus?  Ah, there she is skipping about the yard.  Silly lass!  Amaryllis is far more graceful than that.”

“’Tis a most fair voice you have, little lady,” a pleasantly rough voice spoke behind Summershine.  She whirled about, a hand to her bosom, and looked up.

“Kind sir,” she gasped.  “You startled me.  I did not know anyone was about.”

“I beg your pardon, fair one,” Beleg said.  “But I was irresistibly drawn by the sound of your lovely song.  I should have made known my presence.”

She gazed up at him with as blue and beguiling a pair of eyes as any could wish to see, and a face that was as smooth and guileless as that of a maiden just ripened into sweet womanhood.  Even though he was well aware that she was long past that bloom.

“Think naught of it, kind sir,” she said dipping him a most charming little curtsey, so that he was able the better to see down the front of her dainty gown.   “Did you wish to buy some oranges, or some honey?”

“Perhaps a bit of both,” Beleg said.  “I have heard reports of the fine fruits grown in this spot, and of the sweet golden treasure put forth by the merry bees of this self-same region.  Although I am not from these parts, I have traveled far and wide, having heard tales of the Ring-bearer and his deeds, and wishing to discover for myself his mystery, having heard of the arrival of his steadfast companion.”

“I regret to say that my husband is not about,” Summershine said casting down her long eyelashes demurely.  “He and his friend were taken into the custody of the Queen to experience the healing properties at their disposal.  But I can see that you have come a very long way, and must be both tired and hungry.  May I offer you refreshment?”

You certainly may, Beleg thought.  He glanced aside at Raegbund, and saw that the fool was glancing about, looking for the fish-boy, no doubt.  Let him go hang, he thought.  The lad could wait.  He barely refrained from licking his lips.

And he had a feeling this little one was smarter than she looked, which made her all the more delectable.  Honey hair, blueberry eyes, cherry lips, peaches and cream complexion…not to mention the fruity attractions beneath the gown.  This one was a little garden all in herself. 

“I would much enjoy some, thank you, little one,” he said, fair dripping with gallantry.  “But if it is all the same to you, I would rather not go inside your lovely abode, for I would not soil your surroundings with the grime of my travels.”

“We can take it on our terrace,” she said looking up at him with the most enchanting dimply smile.  “My daughter and granddaughter would be most pleased to assist me to serve you, and—“

“Granddaughter!” Beleg let his pale-grey eyes goggle in disbelief.  “Can I believe the reportage of mine ears?  You scarce appear old enough to be the mother of any but the merest babe.  And yet…did you not wed a mortal?  I was under the impression that you must part with your own mortality in order to do so.  Was I wrong?”

“One might make the choice to become mortal,” Summershine explained earnestly, “if one wishes.  In so doing, one may know the joys of the flesh, of which we of the sea know naught.  But also one would come to know the pains also, and death and age, and so at the insistence of my beloved husband, I chose to cling to my immortality.  He would not see me faded in age, nor yet to know the pains and weaknesses of the flesh.  And he would not have me follow him to the grave.  So I made my choice as you can see, without regret, even though it means he cannot give me the pleasures in the marriage-bed that I give him.  But I am content to give without receiving in that wise, for the reasons given.”

She lowered her eyelids once more, a pretty blush staining her cheeks.  Beleg was dismayed.  So she still had her powers then? This would complicate matters indeed…. Cursing his own stupidity, he looked about for Raegbund, wondering if they should forget the whole business and go jump that ship.  But no, he would not go without finishing what he had set out to do.  It had never been his way, and he was not about to change now….

~*~*~

“Mister Frodo!  What’s the matter!” cried Sam as Frodo sank slowly to the floor, holding to his forehead with both hands, the glass falling and rolling away.  Northlight and Elrond quickly came closer as Sam caught the elderly hobbit in his arms.  Frodo’s face was very pale and sweaty and he clearly appeared to be in pain…a good bit of it.

“I…I am all right,” he gasped, sounding anything but.  Then he groaned, pressing his head into his hands.  “Where is the glass…I must…”

“Never mind about that, Ada,” Northlight said.  “They can do for themselves now.  Let me lift you…there…”  He laid Frodo on a soft couch near the window.  Lord Elrond came closer and looked down at him laying a hand on Frodo’s forehead. 

“What’s the matter with him?” Sam asked in terror.  “Is he…having a stroke?”

“My head hurts,” gasped Frodo.  “Oh….ohhh….”

“Lord Elrond!” Sam cried helplessly.  “Do something—please.”

Elrond was already doing something, laying both hands on Frodo’s head and murmuring softly in Elvish.  Sam looked to Northlight, who looked the way he felt. 

“It must have taken a great deal out of him,” Northlight said, “projecting his thoughts…influencing the others.  It’s hard for a mortal. I wish I could have done it myself.  But I haven’t the sight that he has.  And I’m afraid…I’m afraid…”

“That it will be the death of him?” Sam whispered.  Northlight tightened his lips in anguish, answering the question without answering. 

“Where is Nana, I wonder,” he said a moment later, as Elrond continued the treatment.  “I don’t want her to come in and see this.  Nor Raven either.  I had better go and try to keep them away.”

He gave the others a look that seemed to say, Don’t let him die on me, and then reluctantly turned away, as Sam saw tears starting in his eyes.

~*~*~

In about half an hour Frodo’s headache was nearly gone and his color was almost back to normal, but he was unable to rise from the bed and Northlight had to carry him to the privy.  Anemone brought him a bowl of hot soup and bread and cheese.  Amaryllis sat forlornly in a corner of the adjoining room with Silivren and Castiel on either side of her.  Frodo tried to joke a little to the effect of: Well, here we go again, but it didn’t come off too well.  Sam sat by his side as Anemone fed him and Northlight and Raven beside him, no one else being allowed in as yet.

After a while he fell asleep and Sam sat for a while beside Northlight, glancing up at him from time to time.  This is the day he always knew would come, he thought.  Maybe he thought he was prepared but he knows deep down he’ll never really be prepared.  I know that feelin’ all too well.  And ain’t it a strange thing?  I’m not sad for him or myself.  I’m only sad for his family.  And yet…I don’t feel ready to go yet.  It’s like I said.  I thought I’d go when he did.  Well, I think he’s ready, or almost ready to go now.  Although he’ll probably linger for a while ‘cos that’s his way.  But I don’t want to go just yet.  I know I’ll follow him soon enough.  So I won’t be sad for myself.  It’s them I’ll be sad for.  In the meantime I’ll have to be the ones to buck them up, teach them all how to say goodbye….

After a while he felt Northlight’s cheek resting on the top of his head.  He could see Anemone sitting there holding Mister Frodo’s hand in both of hers and stroking it, and he could hear a bird singing softly outside, and feel the top of his head getting warm and wet, and his eyelids getting heavy….

Then Sam awoke to a shout, and saw Mister Frodo trying to sit up in bed, and he heard running footsteps in the hallway.  And Little Iorhael, face and hair both aflame, burst into the room yelling, “THEY’VE BEEN CAUGHT!”

XVIII. Monsters

As he sat scrunched up beside Frodo in the bed listening, Mister Frodo’s head leaning on his shoulder, Sam was glad the villains had been taken to the prison and he didn’t have to look at them. Especially since, according to Moonrise they weren’t a pretty sight, Beleg being covered from head to foot with bee-stings, and Raegbund having suffered several severe bites…from what he himself had taken at first to be a stone dog.

“Lainadan and Imrathon drove us to the prison after Ebbtide and Crystal and Whitegull and I overcame them,” Moonrise said. “If you listen closely, you can hear bells ringing out there and people cheering. So…Northlight, what do you wish done with them this time, little brother?”

“I don’t wish to be the one to decide this time,” Northlight said in a voice that seemed to come from far away. “I shall leave it to the Queen. I suppose she will make them serve out the rest of their sentence, and then some. Which suits me fine.”

“Raegbund is in a considerable panic,” Moonrise chuckled, “for it seems the dog was foaming at the mouth. Now he’s certain he will grow fangs and a tail, and die a horrible slow death of thirst. I believe it was Whitegull’s idea to make it foam—she has rather a wicked sense of humor, you know, and Raegbund was trying to get a bit cosy with her, if you know what I mean. He’ll be told the truth eventually, but I think it won’t hurt at all to let him stay terrified for a bit.”

Sam and Anemone took turns watching over Frodo all next day, with Northlight hovering about. Amaryllis was allowed in, and although much subdued, she kept them posted about what was going on, and was therefore in her element, saying how nice it was to be allowed outside the Palace walls for a change. Then she said Silivren and Castiel had already gone home and WHAT was she going to do NOW? With only boys and little children to play with?

“What about Lúthien?” Anemone said.

“She's BIG,” Amaryllis pointed out. “She only cares about boys. She's obsessed with them. It's positively embarrassing. I just don't understand her anymore....But look what she gave me.”

She extended one arm, showing a silver bracelet with a carnelian rose set in it. Lúthien had brought a bag full of old bracelets she didn't wear any more, nine of them, and gave them to the girls to divide up among them.

“I let the others have first choice, because I was so horrid,” Amaryllis said virtuously. “Here are the other two bracelets.” She took them from her pocket and held them out for the admiration of all. “That is, I tried to let them have first choice, but I so fancied this one, Castiel saw the longing in my eyes and let me have it. I already miss her sorely.”

“We will be going home soon also, my Bud,” Frodo said to her, where he lay back on a soft long chair in the garden. “It will be safe for us now.”

“I don’t think Lord Elrond is going to allow you to be moved yet, M—Frodo,” Sam said. “And I think you need lots more rest before you’re ready to go.”

“Amaryllis, you may go home with your mother if you wish,” Northlight said, looking troubled. “But I must stay here a while longer.”

“Absolutely not!” Amaryllis exclaimed in indignation. “Do you actually think I would desert my granddad in his hour of need? The idea!”

Frodo had to laugh a little at how much like Sam she sounded. Northlight grinned proudly, and a little sadly.

Later a group of Elves came to request an audience with the Queen. They were ushered into the private study of Lord Elrond, the Queen being with her counselors at the prison. Frodo was brought in, at his own request, when he heard the people were here pertaining to the prisoners.

The guests consisted of a dark young elleth and a boy about Little Iorhael’s age of so and a younger girl, and a fair-haired couple with two little girls, holding tightly to each other’s hands. All seemed to wish to speak at once, so Lord Elrond suggested they come in one at a time to present their cases. Lady Celebrían led out the fair-haired family, leaving the dark lady with the two youngsters.

“My name is Calathiel,” the lady said immediately. She had the kind of thick, blue-black, incredibly rich wavy hair seen only on Dark Elves, together with the pale-gold skin and haunting almond-eyed beauty. Sam could well believe she was kin to Raven and Lady Ríannor. She wore a simple gown of a deep wine color, in the old style.

“Won’t you sit down, Lady Calathiel,” Lord Elrond said. “You have come a long way, have you not? What are the names of your children?”

“I prefer to stand, thank you,” Calathiel said with a touch of haughtiness, Sam thought. He could hardly help but notice Ionwë looking rather hard at her. “And these are not my children, save inasmuch as I have had the care of them since the deaths of our parents long ago. This is my little brother Sadron, and my sister Mirwen. May I ask what is to be done with the two who were captured yesterday?”

“It has yet to be decided,” Lord Elrond said. “May I ask what is your case against them, my lady?”

Calathiel glanced around the room, her dark eyes meeting with Ionwë’s for a moment. Then she looked back to Lord Elrond, drawing a deep breath.

“They raped me,” she said, all in a rush, and a collective gasp went up from all other occupants in the room. “I saw them, and although the dark one was considerably…altered, I had no trouble to recognize him. He threatened to kill me and the children if I told. He caused me to live in constant terror for years. I certainly hope that you do not intend to release him at any time now.” She turned to look straight at Northlight. “I suppose you thought you were being merciful by not having them put to death. But all you did was allow them to terrorize others far and wide. And there were probably others besides myself.”

“Here now, my lady,” Ionwë spoke up, as Northlight stood looking stricken, “do not blame him! If anything, the fault was my own.”

“No, I am to blame,” Northlight said. “Had I not spared them, this poor maiden would not have had to go through such an ordeal. But I was not of the sort who could order the death of any.”

“You should have told ME,” Sadron spoke up. “I would have killed them. I’d have struck them down in five seconds. I could have done it, too.”

“My lady,” Frodo said, sitting up a little, “you should have given yourself and the children into the custody of the Queen from the beginning. They would have given you protection and sent out hunters to capture the wrongdoers. Let us not stand about assigning blame, but rather work together on putting things to rights. And I would ask you to begin by giving yourself into the care of the Queen for the healing of your heart and mind.”

“The Prince is right,” Lord Elrond said, and Sam looked proudly at his former master, at the same time feeling he ought to take him out of here.  “I would invite you to stay here and allow my mother and wife to minister to you. They have had much experience in doing so, and have proven effectual time and again.”

Tears welled in Calathiel’s eyes and spilled over, and in Mirwen’s also.

“It was horrible what they did,” the older elleth said as Ionwë took a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to her. “I would have them both dead. I would have the Island and myself purged forever of their poison. But I think it will be inside me forever, even if they are given what they deserve.”

Lady Celebrían took her gently in her arms and led her from the room, the children following, hand in hand. Sam looked to Frodo once more. Frodo took off his eyeglass and rubbed it absently on his shirt-front, his hand shaking slightly.

“Are you all right, master?” Sam whispered. “I think we should take you back to the garden, or to your room.”

“No no, not yet,” Frodo said, his old stubborn streak rising once more, as the fair-haired couple and the two little girls were brought in. The smaller one’s eyes looked very red, and the older one kept an arm tightly about her. “I will be all right. Truly.”

“My name is Bragohil,” the male elf said, “and this is Narylf, my wife, our daughter Doriel, and our niece Limwen. You must pardon both Limwen and Narylf if they seem upset, for they have recently suffered a tremendous loss. I suppose you have heard of the house fire in the village of Isodan?”

“I have indeed,” Lord Elrond said, “and we have long since sent out a party to investigate it. Do you know aught of it?”

“I know aught,” Narylf said stepping forward, “for it was those beasts who set the fire, killing my sister and her husband. It is extremely fortunate that their little daughter was staying with us that night, or she would have burned along with her parents.”

“I am greatly sorry for your loss, my lady,” Lord Elrond said as Frodo’s eyes widened in horror and Sam felt his own must be doing the same. “But how do you know it was they who set the fire?”

“Because my husband and his father and some of his friends have already investigated,” Narylf said, “and they found prints in the ground made by boots worn by that creature. That’s how I know!” Her face was flushing up good.

“Why would they have wanted your sister dead?” Northlight asked her gently.

“I cannot understand why anyone would have wanted her dead,” Narylf said, her lips trembling and her eyes welling up. “She was the loveliest, gentlest girl, and never harmed a soul.  And…”

“Who was her husband?” Ionwë asked suddenly, and it seemed he had a hunch, from the look of him.

“Rilion was his name,” Bragohil spoke for his wife. “What know you of the matter?”

“How did he look?” Ionwë asked. “About my height, fair hair, blue eyes, a mark on his left cheek in the shape of a tiny bean?”

“Why, yes,” Narylf said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “You knew him then?”

“It was Istuion,” Ionwë nodded. “He was with us…that night. He must have threatened to tell, and so they killed him. I wonder why they did not kill me also. I suppose they thought I was not brave enough to tell. But Istuion was different…he was a reckless fool. He was very young, fun-loving, excitable…and yes, he could be stupid. But he was never really a bad fellow at heart.”

“I remember,” Narylf said, taking her own handkerchief as Bragohil lead the little girls from the room, and Northlight took her arm and gently steered her to a chair, “Meril telling me that Rilion had confessed to her, just before they were wed, that he had done a bad and foolish thing one night after having too much to drink, and had spent some time in prison. What it was he had done, she never told me. But he was always good to her and little Limwen, and worked hard to provide a decent living for them. Yes, I always sensed that there was something amiss, but did not think to connect it with what happened that night….”

“I knew Meril,” Frodo spoke up. “Did she live in the Orphans’ Home?”

“Why, yes,” Narylf said. “She spoke of you often. I brought her to stay there when I came to the Island—I came on the same ship as you, although of course you do not remember me. But well I remember you, Ringbearer. And I had my sister with me, who was only a child then. I had the care of her from the time she was very small, when our parents were killed in war-time, and I had to go in service and could not look after her, so I brought her to live in the Home, after seeing what a comfortable place it was, a happy place--at least, as happy as an orphanage possibly could be. She liked it there, and did not wish to leave even after I married and was able to have her come live with us. But she would not come, so I let her stay there until she was old enough to go into service herself.”

“I do remember her,” Frodo said, rubbing his eyeglass on his shirt-front once more. “I am so sorry for what happened. She was a lovely, happy-natured little lass, and all were fond of her.  But I lost track of her after many years, and heard neither of her marriage nor of the birth of her child.”

“She was never deserving of what happened,” Narylf said with her eyes tearing once more, “and no more was Rilion, or Istuion, although I will admit I did not approve of him at the first. But he eventually proved himself a good husband and father, and a likable fellow himself, and so he won me over.” She looked pleadingly at Northlight. “Please do not think too harshly of him. I know he always deeply regretted what he did. And he was never deserving of such a fate.”

“I do not think harshly of him, my lady,” Northlight said, “and I would never have wished such a horror on him. Beleg and Raegbund are monsters—even more than I once supposed. They should never have been released.”

“It is indeed unfortunate that they were,” Lord Elrond said, “and had it been up to me, I should never have released them. If indeed they were responsible for the deaths of your sister and brother-in-law, my lady, then we will leave it to you to decide what is to be done with them. It will not bring anyone back, but if it will ease your mind in any way at all, I will allow you to make the decision. Please give it some thought before you decide.”

“I have decided already,” Narylf said, her eyes dry now, and harder and bitterer than any steel and any ice and any grief. “I would have them burn…as they burned my sister and her husband, and left my niece an orphan, as Meril and I were once left orphans. Let the punishment fit the crime. I would have them burn.”

XIX. Mercy and Justice

Two days later the Queen’s investigators returned, saying that the bodies had been found and all signs pointed to the fire having been set from outside the house.  But yes, only one pair of boot-prints had been found, matching the boots that Beleg wore.  He insisted he had not set the fire, suggesting that perhaps Raegbund had done so.

“He trod in my steps,” he said.  “Thought he was being clever, no doubt, and that I would never notice.  Did you detect a crack about two inches long in the prints?  There’s such a crack in the sole of his right boot.”

The crack was indeed detected, but Raegbund insisted once more that he had not set the fire, nor wished aught to do with it.  After much rehashing of the issue, Beleg finally admitted to the deed.  Then he cockily said he didn’t deserve to burn, for the victims very likely choked to death on the smoke and never felt the flames.  Raegbund looked at him in horror.   

“If I am to die, let me be strangled, as they were on the smoke,” he pleaded, near tears, as they sat in the council-chamber:  the two criminals with fettered wrists and ankles, Lord Elrond, Sam, Frodo, Northlight, Calathiel, Narylf, and Bragohil.  “Not burnt.  I never burnt them, nor wished to.  I tried to dissuade him, but he would not listen, and threatened to kill me too if I did not go along.”

“What made you think you could get away with it?” Lord Elrond asked them.  “What did you plan to do after you completed the last of your evil deeds?”

“We were going to take a ship,” Beleg said without batting an eye.  “That’s why we waited until now—there was no ship before, at least, none that was fit to sail.  We were going to take it ourselves and sail away to parts unknown.  I was fed up with this miserable Island and wished to get away as quickly as possible…anywhere…after taking care of some unfinished business.”

“Why did you wish to kill the very one who had mercy on you and brought about your release?” Lord Elrond asked him.  Sam had been thinking exactly the same thing.

“Oh…I don’t know,” Beleg smirked.  “Just an itch I had to scratch, I suppose.  I believe in finishing what I start.”

Northlight looked very pale above his dark clothing.  Frodo caressed his shoulder.

“What I think,” said Lord Elrond, “was that your true desire was to destroy the Island itself, by going for the very heart of it.  Just to prove to yourself that you could.”

Beleg laughed.  It sounded like a rusty saw.  Raegbund looked at him in despair and hatred.  Sam had a sudden flashback of a ruined wizard and a cringing man in black wielding a knife, and he looked to Frodo to see if he were thinking the same.

“You’re most perceptive, my Lord,” Beleg said.  “Pity you couldn’t put that trait to better use forty-odd years ago.  But you know perfectly well you’re not going to burn us.  You haven’t it in you.  So if you’re expecting me to squirm, all I can say is:  don’t hold your breath.”

“Do not be so certain,” the sloe-eyed beauty Calathiel spoke up.  “I would light the fire myself, were it allowed me.”

“I lit YOUR fire more than once, my love,” Beleg sneered at her with glittering eyes.  Sam gasped, and a tinge of scarlet crept into Calathiel’s cheeks.  “Didn’t I now?  You needn’t sit on your pretty bum making a show of injured virtue.  You may fool these good folk, but we both know what we know, don’t we, my dusky dove?”

Sam expected her to either fly into a rage or turn and dash out of the room.  To his surprise, she folded her arms and stared him down.

“No one in this room believes you, you devil,” she said in a very soft, dangerous voice.

“Oh, I am well aware of that,” Beleg said with a wink.  “But you and I know differently.  You were my mistress for how long, before you decided I wasn’t good enough for you any more?”

“Liar,” she said, and Sam felt proud of her.  Frodo looked very pale, but did not move.  Beleg chuckled.

“You were quite alone in the world, fair one,” he said, “and then I came along and you actually thought you’d tame me down, and I’d marry you and give you and your little ones a home?  You think anyone really believes they are your brother and sister, and not your bastard children?  You thought I could make an honest elleth of you, did you not?”

“If they were my children, bastard or otherwise,” Calathiel said, “I would freely admit to it, and claim them as my own.  And I would lie and rot in my grave before I would marry the likes of you.  You, make an honest elleth of anyone?  What a joke!”

Sam noticed Ionwë gazing hard at her, and wondered if he were admiring her fire and spirit, along with her obvious physical charms.

“You felt differently,” Beleg narrowed his pale-grey eyes, “before you found out, thanks to this wretch here, about my past.  Only then did you decide you wished nothing more to do with me, and told me to leave you alone.  You may deny it all you please, but we both know the truth.  Who knows, perhaps it was you who set the fire, so you could blame me, and you could get your truest revenge, knowing you would be believed before me.”

“Liar,” she said, as all gasped at his audacity.  “I could have destroyed you myself, and I should have.  And so I would have, had I not Sadron and Mirwen to consider.  You kept me at your mercy by threatening to kill them.  Many is the time I considered taking them to the Palace to place them in protective custody, but it is a long and lonely road, and I feared you would waylay us.  And who knows how many others you did the same way, and they were too ashamed or frightened to come forth?  I would have you both burn now, and watch and laugh in your faces as you went up in flames.”

Even Narylf looked at her in some consternation, and Bragohil put an arm around her.  Calathiel looked back at the others, tears standing in her eyes.

“Do not believe a word he says,” she said.  “It is true that I found him attractive once.  I was a fool, without a doubt.  But it did not take me long to discover his true evil and see him for what he was, and that was when he began taking me by force.  I am not a paragon.  But I never would have killed any innocent people to try to trap him.  That is his way, not mine.”

“No one believes him,” Narylf assured her.  “Of course you had naught to do with it, Calathiel, We know that.  That filth and his friend alone are responsible, and I shall see justice done.”

~*~*~

“I’m sorry it’s been like this for you, Sam dear,” Frodo said late that evening as they were being made ready for bed.  “And it was so peaceful and nice when you arrived.  I’m sure you did not count on all this happening.”

“The only thing that worries me about it,” Sam said, as Northlight went to fetch them clean nightshirts, “is what it’s been doin’ to you, M—Frodo.  Although you do seem a little better now, strange to say.”  He shuddered.

“Maybe it’s been good for me,” Frodo smiled from where he sat propped up in the big bed, pillows piled up behind him.  “It shook me out of my shock and put some ginger back into me.  Perhaps I’ll be back on my feet tomorrow.”

Sam lifted his white head, feeling his heart leap a little, then subside.  No use getting his hopes up this time.  If Mister Frodo did get better, that was a wonderful thing.  But it was much likelier that he wouldn’t.

“They will not really be burnt, if they are found guilty?” Frodo said.  “I can scarcely blame the ladies for the way they feel.  I remember well enough how I felt when I saw Northlight after he was brought in that night, although I have prayed to be able to forget it.  I felt that no punishment was too severe for the perpetrators.  But still, sometimes it is not a good thing for people to get exactly what they deserve.”

Northlight helped Sam into bed saying, “They will be put to death, I am certain.  But…I would not have it.  I should never have consented to their release.”

“Don’t feel badly, M—Northlight,” Sam said as the covers were pulled over him and Mister Frodo.  “When you do a certain thing, you can’t always know what’s goin’ to come of it later on.  It’s like the Lady said, you can’t change the past, you can only take a hand in making the future…or somethin’ like that.  Although I know that’s easy enough to say when you’ve not made a huge mess of things in the past.”

“Yes,” Northlight said glancing toward the window, “it’s easy enough to say when two people are not lying burnt to death, and a child has not been made an orphan, and a young lady remains unviolated.  But when things are otherwise…yes, then it grows harder.  But when should one cease to be merciful, and show justice instead?”

“Yes, I do understand that,” Sam said.  “But it’s all out of our hands now.  Lord Elrond and all the rest can be trusted to do the right thing.  We needn’t worry ourselves with it…we just need to get Mister Frodo home and go about the business of living.”

“I think you are right,” Northlight said.  “Yes.  They have been caught, and we are safe now.  And their fate is out of our hands.  We will go home tomorrow.”

Frodo reached out and took his hand saying,  “I’m very proud of you, Northlight.  I’m proud of how you conducted your past, and dealt with what mistakes you made in your own unique and wonderful way, and I am also proud of the grief you feel in this moment.  And I am proud of your future without knowing what it will be, only that you will choose as you see fit, and that in all likelihood you will choose rightly.  So I am proud of your past, your present, and your future, taken all together, my son.”

A soft tap was heard at the door, which opened slowly a moment later.  It was Amaryllis.

“May I come in?” she asked, and then came in before anyone could say yes.  The hobbits smiled.  “I came to see if Granddad was all right.  I was worried.”

“That’s sweet of you,” Mister Frodo smiled.  “I’m much better now, thank you, my Bud.  Did you have a good time in the garden with the children today?”

“Somewhat,” Amaryllis said climbing up on the bed and seating herself at the foot of it.  “Mirwen is quite nice.  And I think little Limwen is darling, but I don’t like Doriel so much.  She snaps your head off at the least little things.”

“She is going through a bad time,” Northlight reminded her.  “She just lost her aunt and uncle, you know.  When people are going through a bad time, they don’t always behave as they should.  Sometimes one must show a little patience and understanding.”

“Limwen just lost her parents,” Amaryllis pointed out, “and she's just sweet.  She melts my heart, truly.  I said something about how I’d like to adopt her as my little sister, and Doriel just threw a fit.  She said Limwen was going to be HER sister and if I dared to take her away, she’d put a curse on me.  Imagine!”

The others laughed, and Sam felt a vast relief at being able to do so.  But Amaryllis clasped worried hands. 

“You don’t think she can REALLY put a curse on me, do you?” she whispered. 

“Of course not,” Northlight said.  “How are the girls doing now?”

“Lyrien gave them dolls,” Amaryllis said.  “They had those leaves in them, and Mummy said she thought they were having a calming effect.  And Lyrien held Limwen in her lap for a while.  I think Perhael didn’t like that, but Perion played that game with the feather-cork with him and Sadron and Ninniach.  Jolyan went home with his father yesterday, but Arasinya is staying here for Ionwë.”

“Lyrien is a blessing,” Frodo said.  Sam remembered the feather-cork game.  Some of the boys had been idly batting a cork with a few feathers stuck in one end back and forth with wooden sticks, and Northlight had said there had to be a better way to hit the cork around.  So he went to the smithy and had a couple of lightweight round metal frames with long handles made (after observing the way the laundresses washed and dried stockings over a similar apparatus), and he begged some old stockings of Lady Celebrían and stretched those over the metal frames and tied the ends tightly, then wound leather strips around the ends of the handles.  These worked much better for hitting the cork around…and naturally, Guilin just had to capitalize on this idea and now the game was quite the rage on the Island….

Amaryllis nodded in vigorous agreement.  “Why do you think I worship her?” she beamed.  “But Daddy, I do wish you’d had Aunt Sweetfern bring my other clothes here instead of Uncle Moonrise.  He must not have any concept at all of Palace life!  I think he just fetched up the oldest, horridest dresses I had.  I can barely hold my head up in them.   Just look at this old rag!”

She held out her skirt for the inspection of all.  Northlight looked at it in puzzlement.

“What’s wrong with it?” he said.  “Looks all right to me.”

Amaryllis’ lovely mouth dropped open and she looked at the hobbits in complete and baffled exasperation at her father’s obtuseness.  They laughed.  So did Northlight.

“Well, you will not have to go about the Palace in rags after today, my princess,” he said reaching out to pat her cheek.  “We will be going home tomorrow.  And so you had better go get ready for bed now, so you may pack up all those horrid old dresses and hold your head high, and perhaps I will even look into getting you a new one or two.”

She sprang up in delight, and after kissing all goodnight, she dashed out the door almost forgetting to open it…and then a few moments later, she tapped on it again, and peered in.

“Know what I think?” she said in a half whisper.  “Ionwë is sweet on Calathiel.  Every time she’s in the room he doesn’t take his eyes off her the whole time.  When do you think they'll get married?  Next month?”

“Go to bed!” her father laughed.

XX. What the Beacon Knew

Mister Frodo seemed very quiet when they left the Palace; it was as if he knew that once they left, he would not be coming back. They had seen Calathiel set up in a very nice suite of rooms opening into a lovely garden with a path leading to the grotto, and Sam could only hope Calathiel would find peace and comfort amongst the Ladies. 

Ionwë did not seem happy, even though he had a new job awaiting him. He lamented that he had ruined Istuion’s life.

“He was but a boy, alone in the world,” he said, “and he looked up to me. I should have been as an older brother to him, and instead I led him astray. He would be alive now, but for me.  Now I feel I've no right to be around innocent creatures. I thought the worst of that lay behind me. And it has risen to confront me again, and I do not know how to get free of it.”

“He did not do so badly,” Arasinya said laying a hand on her brother's shoulder. “From what Narylf has told us, he had a happy and busy life with his wife and child and his work. Perhaps he would never have met Meril under different circumstances.”

“And now he and Meril are both dead, and their daughter is an orphan,” Ionwë said. He stood up and went to stand with his back to the others, looking out at a garden whose beauties he did not seem to see. Amaryllis was sitting with Mirwen and the little ones, all of them examining a butterfly Sadron had caught. Narylf sat near the grotto with Calathiel and Lyrien and Lady Celebrían, Bragohil talking with Lord Elrond nearby. Sam saw Narylf thoughtfully run her fingertips over the foot of the little statue that graced the grotto, and for a moment he could have sworn he saw it smile and blink.

 He looked to Mister Frodo, who did not seem pleased with Ionwë’s guilt, although perhaps once he might have rejoiced in it. Instead, pity shone from those eyes, behind the eyeglass, pity for this fellow who had ruint his own life as well as another’s, and would never really be free of the remorse that haunted him now.

Just before they left, Northlight embraced Ionwë, asking him what he liked to eat so they might have him over to dinner. Ionwë held Northlight tightly, and it seemed protectively, at the same time hiding his face on the smaller fellow’s shoulder.

“Sam,” Frodo said as they looked on, “did you notice something about him...Ionwë...yesterday evening?”

“Umm…no, M—Frodo, can’t say as I did. Was I supposed to?” Sam lifted puzzled eyebrows.

“He has a light now,” Frodo said smiling.

It was wonderful to see the cottage again. It was a joy to see the children playing on the beach and hear them sing and laugh and shout. Even the birds seemed full of warmth and gaiety. It was as if no evil had ever touched it at all, as though the sea had washed clean any taint that dared permeate the grounds. The falls were still falling, the rainbow hovering over, the butterflies and hummingbirds still visiting the trumpet-shaped blue and white and purple flowers that hung from the vines, falling amid the maidenhair ferns and honeysuckle that laced the white and grey cliffsides, the ibis and flamingo wading the dimpled green-silver pools, the gulls circling and crying over the lichen-spattered sea-side walls and jutting wet boulders and reefs. The sun still set the clouds ablaze with scarlet and gold and silver and purple over the glassy waves, and the Beacon lit itself as faithfully as the rising sun at nightfall...and somehow knowingly.

Mister Frodo recovered but little of his strength, and after less than a month, it was plain to all that he was on the decline.  He did not suffer pain, other than a few minor aches and twinges common to the elderly, and complained rarely, and joked often. One morning Sam heard him as he sat out on the beach after breakfast, singing in his increasingly weak and cracked voice:

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or secret gate
And oft though I have passed them by
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the moon, east of the sun….

And many will be left behind
When soon at last that road I find
Who will stay to dry their tears
And lead them gently through the years
When I take those paths that run
West of the moon, east of the sun?

Moonrise kept them all posted as to the fates of Beleg and Raegbund. As yet there had been no date set for their execution, but Lord Elrond said for certain that they would not burn. The Queen thought perhaps beheading was the best way, but she as yet had come up with no one willing to do the job.

They went to Temple regularly each week, until the time came when Mister Frodo no longer had the strength for it. Instead they took him down to his praying-rock on the beach. It seemed to do him good, and he once remarked that perhaps the Creator favored the sunny reaches of his creation to the gemmed and convoluted structure raised in his honor.

“I can see a stairway running up through those clouds,” he said pointing out to sea. “Can you, Sam?”

Sam looked but could see only lacy clouds and sunlight. “I see…somethin’,” he murmured. “It’s a mighty pretty sight. And the sea…it’s a wondrous thing. I don’t fear the water now, somehow. It’s a thing of wonders, the way it’s so wide and deep, and so alive, and full of creatures and treasures and mysteries. More than I ever would of thought possible.”

“Just like life itself,” Mister Frodo said.

 Just once, they took him into the City to see a show, but after that he did not want to go any more. It was a good show, for Raven danced in it, and Sam got to see her on the stage for the first time. It was far different from seeing her dance on the beach on his first night on the Island. She scarcely seemed herself, but like some creature too shining and rich and singular for this world, in a costume of white and gold and scarlet, a band of gems on her hair.  He remembered Frodo telling him that Guilin had come up with a way to write music down, and it had caught on. He would draw straight lines across a sheet of paper and put dots on them representing notes, each note corresponding to a note on the instrument playing. Sounded like a lot of work, Sam remarked. It was, Guilin said, and he was continually coming up with improvements to the idea, and driving everyone quite wild with them. Mister Frodo was rapt, watching Raven, and Sam looked at him in wonder. Yes, this was his daughter, as much as Elanor was his own, and he wondered what she was doing now, and wondering if maybe, just maybe….

“Mister Frodo, may I borrow your glass tonight?” he asked after they returned home. Anemone brought it, and they took it to the terrace where they could see the Beacon glimmering in the distance, and Sam took the glass in his lap as he sat with Mister Frodo on the long chair, and he gazed into it after saying the words to light it. And together they combined their energies to look into the brilliance…which spread itself like the breath of a star into their skins and painlessly pierced their eyes and brains…but try as they might, it was all they could see.

“Maybe…she’s doin’ somethin’ not for my eyes,” Sam said after a long while. Frodo put an arm around him tightly.

“I think that door is not open to us, Sam,” he said very gently. “Let us content ourselves with those that are.”

Amaryllis came over every evening, and sometimes she would pull out one of the six volumes of Mister Frodo’s poetry and read from it. It was wonderful to hear it all again, and to know it was written down for all to see, so that something of Mister Frodo would live on for his family after the rest of him was out of their reach.

“Look,” she would say between readings. “Here are drawings that Grandmum made to illustrate. Guess who posed for this girl? She’s ME! And this is you, Sam. Perion posed for it. Of course he doesn’t really look like you, but Granddad said he captured your essence. Whatever that means.”

Northlight did try hard to be happy, to try and make the most of the time left to him and his father. It hurt Sam to see at times, and must have hurt Mister Frodo even more. And he had an idea how Mister Frodo must have felt knowing he must leave Middle-earth and leave the others behind, wondering they would deal with their grief. But this was worse, knowing he was going where they couldn’t follow. Sam remembered him saying more than once that he was glad to be mortal; now he wondered if maybe he wished otherwise, that he might stay behind, here in his true home with his loved ones all around throughout the ages....

“Sam,” he said one particularly beautiful and star-laden night, as they sat in the long chair alone together talking quietly and reminiscing, “do you remember me telling of the farewell picnic the Elves gave for Bilbo on his last full day on the Island?”

Sam frowned a little, then nodded. “Yes, I do remember that. You said they came most unexpected, but knew somehow that it was to be his last day. And...and....” He wondered why Mister Frodo had seen fit to bring up the subject.

And then it seemed a cold breeze blew through all his clothes as he glanced to the Beacon…for he knew why.

“I think...I would like such a picnic...tomorrow,” Mister Frodo said.

It will come gently, when it comes for you
and so I will not fear.
No leering face of evil will it wear
no stench of grave will sully its grey gown
no rasp will quell the lulling of its song
but as a mother lifts her sleepy child
to lay it in its bed of final softness
it will come gently
have no fear.

It will come gently, as we stand and watch
and know that it must be.
You'll smile on us and bid us not to weep
and tell us we were all you could desire
and bless our faces with your parting light
but grief will be our house-guest just the same
to hold us when we wake from shaking dreams
still it will come gently
we'll have no fear

when at long last it comes
with its unfaltering steps
as yet it will.

by Anemone Baggins

XXII. Treasures and Divine Gifts

Sam had to wonder how the crowd got there. Anemone said all she had to do was speak to Tilwen about a picnic, and Til had only to speak to her mother, and soon the word was out within the space of an hour.

Mister Frodo sat in his usual canvas chair, covered by a light blanket. Sam sat on one side of him, Anemone on the other. Sandrose’s eight daughters, the Gem-stones as they were more or less affectionately known, had sung a song in tribute to their great-granddad, to start things off. Now some of the youngsters were wave-riding, and Mister Frodo seemed to greatly enjoy watching them, commenting on their skill, laughing when they clowned on their boards, reminiscing about past riding incidents. Some of the others were playing the feather-cork game, still others tossing horseshoes, some building sand castles, some swimming and diving, showing off, some playing merry music while others danced. Youngsters ran up from time to time to show Mister Frodo things they found, among them a huge sea-turtle, at which Rosie would have fainted, most likely, but Anemone grinned and held it for a moment before giving it back to the finders.

And seemingly from out of nowhere, there was a showing of many white dolphins, that leaped high into the air and did amazing flips, all in formation, while all watchers squealed in delight.

And of course, there was a great deal of food.

“Ionwë,” Mister Frodo said as they watched the dancing, “Calathiel looks lonely. Why don’t you go ask her for a dance?”

Ionwë jerked his head from the sight of the dancers, where Calathiel was dancing with her sister and looking ravishing in a scarlet ankle-length skirt and white blouse with short lacy sleeves, then looked guiltily toward Mister Frodo.

“I don’t think…” he hedged, whereupon Anemone sprang to her feet, grabbed him by both elbows and steered him toward the dancers, pushing him practically into Calathiel’s arms. Mirwen looked disgruntled until an older lad tapped her shoulder and held out his hands. Sam and Mister Frodo laughed heartily.

Then one of Anemone’s grandsons, Young Amonost, asked her to dance, and Frodo nodded his consent, smiling. As the two whirled off, Frodo watched a little wistfully, then glanced in the direction of the two little girls Doriel and Limwen, who were wading in the shallows, looking down at something that had attracted their attention in the water. Narylf sat on the sand watching them. Bragohil stood nearby talking to Elrond and Celebrían. Arkenstone and Little Iorhael were trying to initiate Sadron into the joys of wave-riding. 

On the other side was Amras, whom Mister Frodo had called back from the dead so long ago, with his wife Laurewen, watching their two sons and their daughter playing in the surf. And the three adopted sons of the poet Rûdharanion and his wife Salmë, and their little daughter by birth, who was now sitting on her daddy’s lap…and he could scarcely have looked any happier. And Salmë’s great-granddaughter Aredhel and her husband Alcandor and their daughter and son. And the poet Dûndeloth, with his son and daughter-in-law and his many descendants…one of whom seemed rather sweet on Mister Frodo’s granddaughter Evenstar, who was the daughter of one of the twins, Sam couldn’t think which one, but Miss Evenstar was lovely as a picture and a bit of a flirt….

And young Dínlad, who’d portrayed Mister Frodo in the plays, grown up now but still unmarried, and yes, he’d brought the Horn, and had blown it for Sam...and there was his sister Marílen with her husband Dairuin and their beautiful little daughter Lëandreth, just eight months old and attracting quite a circle of admirers already....Ah, Sam remembered now, Dairuin had played Merry, or was it Pippin? in the play. Pippin, Mister Frodo said, and Sam nodded. Edrahil his twin had played Merry…and he was hovering nearby with his betrothed, Fëariel, who was also cousin to Dínlad and Marílen and was admiring baby Lëandreth with chirpy delight, and the little one shyly hid her face on her mum's shoulder, at which everyone went "Awww" and laughed sympathetically.

So much life abounding, and Mister Frodo sitting apart from it…what was going through his mind now, Sam wondered.

“I was just thinking,” Mister Frodo spoke up just then, as though he had read Sam’s mind, “of how Beleg and Raegbund must be faring. How they will feel the day before their execution, knowing it’s to be their last day of life. Will they feel regret for what they’ve done? Or will they fell put-upon, that they were not truly responsible for their actions? Or will they be terrified, knowing they’ll be held accountable for their deeds? How will they feel knowing that no one will throw a picnic for them, and all will rejoice when their sentence is carried out?”

“Now M--Frodo,” Sam remonstrated, “you’re surely not feelin’ sorry for the likes of them? I know it’s your way, but still, they did bring it all on theirselves.”

“Yes, I know,” Frodo said. “Still I can hardly help but wonder what will go through their minds, when they know it is their last day of life, and there will be no turning back for them. Most people don’t know when their last day will be, but when theirs comes...they will know it.”

“Mister Frodo,” Sam said after a thoughtful pause, turning over in his mind what his former master had said, “you’re not havin’ fears and misgivin’s, are you?”

“Only for those who will be left behind,” Mister Frodo said. “I look forward to what is to come for me, yet I feel as though I should not, because of the grief that will be in its wake. It’s just the same as when I came to the Island. I rejoiced to be there, but was in sorrow for those I had left to grieve behind me. It seems one cannot have it two ways. So I do not fear for myself. The very thought of my destination fills me with ecstasy. It will be a wonderful thing. But I cannot help but think that halfway up those stairs my head will be turning back to look at the rest of you. Not so much at you, Sam, for I know you will join me sooner or later. And Anemone also. But the others...my family, and Gandalf, and Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían, and the rest. And Galendur, I worry especially about him. At least he will still have Northlight, and Tilwen will have Raven, after Anemone comes to join me, but...”

“You know what I said before,” Sam said, “that I’d go with you if you’d like. I know you said you didn’t want me to go until I was ready, but the offer still holds.”

“I know, Sam, but you are not ready yet. I am not afraid to go by myself. It’s just what everyone else does when their time comes, and if they can do it, why shouldn’t I be able to do the same? And when your time does come, I will be there waiting for you, and even if it be many years from now, it will feel short to me, I know. I can see it now…I’ll be standing up there at the top of the stairs, while you come trudging up…perhaps your head will turn to look back a time or two also…but then you’ll look up and there I’ll be, and I’ll smile and wave, and you’ll come up running, and Rosie will be standing beside me, and your parents and mine, and Bilbo and Merry and Pippin…then we’ll embrace you and dance and sing and laugh…and I’ll tease you about being a slowpoke, and Rosie will chide you for calling everyone Mister or Miss…and Bilbo will regale you with stories about what’s been going on while he’s been here—I know he’s kept the place jumping with his antics, and it will not be dull with him and Merry and Pippin around….”

“You make it sound most invitin’, Mister Frodo,” Sam said. “But you’re right. I’m NOT ready. And I’m much obliged to you for understandin’ that, and biddin’ me stay till my time has come. Maybe there are still things here that need puttin’ to rights and I’m the one to do it. And your family has made me feel like one of ‘em, that I won’t feel like I don’t belong with ‘em, like I thought at first. It feels like your family and mine is somehow married, if you know what I mean.”

“You will see things I will not,” Mister Frodo said. “Raven will bear another child. I think she is pregnant now and does not know it yet. I hope so, for then her grief at my passing will be eased all the sooner. I'm sure Northlight wants a son, while Amaryllis will hope for a little sister, and Raven will not care which it is, as long as it comes. And that's not all you will see, my Sam.”

It was not quite dark when the picnickers finally broke up and started going their way. Many came to hug and kiss Mister Frodo and some cried as they did so. Mistress Lyrien came and held him the longest, and he hid his face against her shoulder and when he lifted his head, there were tears all over his face as well as hers. Galendur and Tilwen, with their children behind them, held him both between them, caressing his hair, whispering things that Sam couldn’t hear, and he discreetly stepped away and stood between Anemone and Northlight with his arms about their waists. Then it was Mister Gandalf’s turn, and he fairly enfolded Mister Frodo in his red robes. Then Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían and Lord Celeborn and Lady Elwing and young Lúthien, and then the Queen herself. And lastly, there were the many, many members of Mister Frodo’s family, and they gathered like butterflies around the sweetest possible flower, and the waves behind them seemed to grow quieter and gentler, as if shushing one another in respect for the ones who would soon shed enough tears to fill the entire cove, and their music was of stairways and treasures and divine gifts.

When all had departed, Northlight bore Mister Frodo up in his arms and they all walked slowly back to the cottage in the dusk, and Northlight laid his ada very gently on the long chair and kissed the top of his head and pressed his face down on the silver curls. Sam sat in the chair beside Mister Frodo while Amaryllis sat very quietly close by. Raven asked her if she were all right and she nodded without speaking. All sat for a while talking of the picnic and who did this and that and how well it had gone, no serious accidents or bickering amongst either old or young.

When it began to grow dark, Mister Frodo asked to be alone with Northlight and Raven for about a quarter of an hour, and so Northlight took him inside and Raven followed, softly closing the door behind her.  Amaryllis began to weep openly.

“Granddad’s dying, isn’t he?” she said and Anemone took her in her arms and stroked her hair. Tears seeped from Sam’s eyes also as he heard the girl’s sobs. Then he went and held her for a while also until Northlight came out again with Mister Frodo in his arms, and set him back in his chair. Mister Frodo called Amaryllis to him, and she laid her head on his shoulder, then motioned for Northlight and Raven to come closer. He told them they were all he could ever have wished for in a son and daughter and thanked them for all the joy and pride they had given him. 

And finally Northlight and Raven and Amaryllis turned for home with hands linked, looking back from time to time with wet faces in the dusk, and Mister Frodo watched them until they had crossed the bridge, three glimmering lights in the violet air of evening.  The Beacon began to lend its brightness in the distance, and the aurora began showing itself a little earlier than usual. Anemone pulled the blanket over Mister Frodo and asked him if he and Sam wished to be alone together.

“No, my love,” Mister Frodo said. “We wish you with us, don’t we Sam?”

“Indeed we do,” Sam said sincerely. “We wouldn’t think of not havin’ you, Mistress Anemone.  I think there’s room for three.”

Anemone smiled a little, hurtfully, and settled herself on Mister Frodo’s right side. It was a tight squeeze, but she insisted she was comfortable. They slid their arms under Mister Frodo and he worked his right hand out and took Sam’s left hand, and with his left hand he took Anemone’s right.

“This is exactly the sort of night I was hoping for,” he said smiling. “All full of stars, and the aurora, and the fragrance of all the flowers. This is Midsummer’s Eve, isn’t it?”

“I think so,” Anemone murmured, her small voice trembling. Mister Frodo kissed her hand, then Sam’s, and held them to his cheeks.

“Midsummer’s Eve was always my favorite day of year,” he said. “Such life and color and richness in it. Since I’ve had my family here, it’s felt as though it were Midsummer’s Day all year round. So many beautiful and new things happening, it’s as though each day were the beginning of my life. As if I were reborn each morning, yet with memory of the previous days. As if I had been given a magic chest in which to place all the treasures I found or was given along the way, and no matter how many I put into it, the chest was never full, there was always room for more and more. And each time I acquired a new one, I wondered how I ever did without it.”

Sam noted how much clearer his voice sounded now. And his light was brighter now, so he seemed made more of brilliance than of flesh, as though he had drunk the contents of his glass, and had become the glass itself. His hands felt warm and strong, his body all of warmth and energy and new firmness, and as Sam glanced at Anemone’s face, she looked perhaps as she had been when Mister Frodo had first met her, all rose-gold beauty and radiance. She appeared as if the little statue in the grotto had come to life. He had to wonder how he himself looked, and as his eyes met Anemone’s, he had his answer. He saw himself as he had been in his youth, felt his flesh firm and taut, his hair taking its original sandy gold, and then he looked to Mister Frodo, and his hair looked its former rich brown and his face smooth as a youth’s, the eyes as merry and blue as in his boyhood.

And all three lay transfixed in the brilliance, as the tide seeped out little by little until it was no more, leaving tiny gems like colored tear-drops in its wake.

XXIII. Crossing Over

The headstone was carved of a strange and wonderful kind of stone rarely used, of a translucent white with a soft light within, a veining of violet and gold. It was easy to carve but virtually impossible to chip or break. A niche was carved into it to hold the star-glass, and under it read: IN LOVING MEMORY OF PRINCE IORHAEL, ONCE KNOWN AS FRODO BAGGINS OF THE SHIRE. MAY HIS LIGHT SHINE IN OUR MIDST UNTIL THE END OF ALL THINGS.  The glass was not placed in the niche, for Sam wished to keep it with him until it was his time to go. But he planted a garden all about of all the flowers Mister Frodo liked best. And was careful to leave room for when he and Mistress Anemone would lie on either side.

Belladonna came to live with Anemone after the funeral, bringing little Peacock with her, and Northlight and Raven took Sam to live with them. He was set up in a cozy little alcove along with an adjoining chamber that served him as a sitting-room, and also a little patio. 

He proved a great comfort to Amaryllis, bringing her granddad back to life for her in all the stories he told of Mister Frodo’s childhood and early youth and young adulthood, and Amaryllis grew nearly as attached to him as she had been to Mister Frodo. This worried Sam, for the time would come when she must endure another loss, and he wondered how he would go about preparing her for that….

Imrathon brought a kitten over one day, after their barn cat had a litter, so that Sam would have a constant companion for his chambers. He hadn’t thought to have a cat, but she grew on him quick enough, affording plenty of amusement with her antics by day, cuddling in his lap or beside him in his bed at night. He named her Ginger for her fur color, and he greatly enjoyed watching Amaryllis play with her and say things like “Aren’t you too cute for words?” Sometimes Ginger would just sit on her haunches and gaze at him with gold-green eyes full of soft unswerving fondness, until Sam, who was not used to cats, would be filled with wonder.

And even as Mister Frodo predicted, he was there when little Hathol was born, and knew just what to do when Raven went into labor unexpectedly. He would hold the child and rock it to sleep when its mother worked, and comforted Amaryllis for her disappointment in not getting the little sister she wanted. And he heard little Hathol’s first words and saw his first steps, bounced him on his knee and sang silly songs to him. The little one looked just like his daddy, to everyone’s delight, so that even Amaryllis took to him before long, to the point where she would often change his nappy without being asked, and take him for walks in his pram, and even speak proudly at times of “her baby brother.” 

Sam it was who performed the wedding of Ionwë and Calathiel, one year after the passing of Mister Frodo, and gave them counsel in the matter of dealing with Ionwë’s parents, who of course were less than ecstatic over their son’s choice of a mate.  But by and by Calathiel gave birth to twins, boy and girl, who were given the names of Ionwë’s parents, and thus the breech in the family was eventually healed. 

Sam it was who gave counsel to Raven’s friend and former teacher, the artist Findëmaxa, when finally she acquired a suitor, and confided to him that she had serious misgivings, having pledged herself to embrace chastity all her days. At first he scarcely knew what to say. The concept of embracing chastity was entirely foreign to him, and he saw no sense in it, but he reminded hisself that it wasn’t always a good idea to say all you were thinking.

“Meanin’ no disrespect, my lady,” he said, “but I think you’ve embraced chastity long enough. I don’t think human bein’s was meant to embrace chastity. Not for all their days, at least. They was made to embrace each other. You don’t see a doe-deer or a mare or a ewe embracin’ chastity, now do you?  They was made to mate and bear young.”

“Well--I know that,” Findëmaxa said, blushing a little. “But we are not beasts, and I’ve sometimes felt that I was destined for Higher Things, you know? To fully contemplate all the beauties and glories of Creation, and uphold them to a high standard of purity and light and glory. You know, that sort of thing?”

Sam didn’t quite know what she was talking about, and it sounded like stuff and nonsense to him, but once more he bit his tongue and continued: “Couldn’t you uphold ‘em and be married at the same time?”

“Well, I don’t know,” she hedged. “Sometimes I’ve thought one could, but…I’ve always heard that True Love is a beautiful and holy thing, but I’ve also felt that there was something, well, earthy about it. Something removed from the far reaches of the Divine. How can one’s spirit hope to soar above the clods of the earth when one has given oneself over to Fleshly Appetites?  Yes, I know that Londimir adores me and conceives of me as his ideal of Divine Maidenhood, far removed from The Reaches of This World. And I’m afraid that I cannot live up to his ideal. Perhaps I should not be saying all this to you but…somehow it just came pouring out of me.”

“My lady,” Sam said, “I’m not sure I understand all you’re sayin’, but I will say this: there ain’t nothin’ diviner and holier than true love and marryin’ and begettin’ children and watchin’ ‘em grow and noticin’ all the things about yourself and your mate in ‘em. It IS a dangerous thing and no mistakin’. It takes a lot of work, and listenin’, and understandin’, and endurin’, and learnin’ from your mistakes, and puttin’ up with plenty, and wonderin’ if you’re doin’ the right thing and tryin’ not to blame yourself when things don’t go the way you want ‘em to. Now I don’t care if a body don’t wish to be married, it’s their own business and I don’t tell folks how to live their lives. But you did ask me what I thought of, and this is it. Do you truly wish to wed...Londimir?”

He thought this Londimir sounded like a silly young piece of foolishness and she could surely do better, but….

“Well, yes,” she said, “but even as you said, it’s no light undertaking. I cherish my ideals and don’t wish to let go of them, and cannot help but feel misgivings at the thought of breaking my resolution to hold myself aloft and all.”

“My lady, I don’t think you’re ready for marryin’, if I may say so,” Sam said. “Bein’ a artist and all, maybe you have too much imagination, and you keep thinkin’ about all the things that could go wrong. As for the fleshly things, maybe you think too much about the things theirselves and not the lovin’ that goes with ‘em. It makes all the differ’nce in the world.”

“Sometimes I think it’s life itself I’m afraid of,” she sighed. “You’re probably right, I have too much imagination, and am afraid of getting hurt, and of not being able to measure up, and of…well, failure. But I don’t know how to overcome it.”

“Mister Frodo used to say the sea was like life itself,” Sam recalled. “He heard the call of the Sea, and so did I. I’m assumin’ you did too. I think those who hear the call of the Sea are really hearin’ the call of life itself. I feared the Sea more than anything, but once I crossed over, then I lost all my fear and knew I’d done what I was meant to do. But it’s not somethin’ you take lightly. You hear the call, you make up your mind to it, and you go. Then when you get there…well, then you know you’ve arrived and you can do anything you must, and you’ll know it was worth crossin’ for. That's how you overcome it--by just jumpin’ in and doin’ what needs to be done.”

After that Findëmaxa went back to seeing Londimir. Sam would not live to know if she accepted him or not, but he had a feeling she was making a start.

And he heard of the beheading of Beleg and Raegbund. He would never know who did the job, for the executioner’s name was withheld from the public, and it gave him pause at times wondering who of the comers and goers he saw each day it could have been, and what he must think, knowing he had shed blood, even if it was evil blood, and how it was he slept in his bed of nights, what he thought and dreamt about, and Sam felt thankful that in all his years as mayor he’d never had to make the decision to deprive another of his life....

And when Galendur and Tilwen had their third child, another little lass, they asked Sam to name her, sensing that he might like to bestow one last gift before he quit the earth forever. And Sam named her Meril, both for the lady who lost her life in the fire and after his own Rose, and Amaryllis said she had thought of that name also. It was as if they were kindred souls, she said.

And he and Anemone frequently sat on his porch and talked quietly, and sometimes sat in silence communing only with their minds. They did not marry, but remained the best of friends for all their days. Sam told her what he knew of Greenjade, having heard tell of him from King Elessar as he was now known. Anemone listened in profoundest gratitude, Amaryllis and Raven and Northlight sitting by in awe and wonder while little Hathol played with Ginger.

But at last when Sam found he could not use his legs so well anymore and had to take to the wheelchair, he decided his day had come. He had made up his mind to be a burden to no one; when the time came that he would have to be pushed and lugged about like a little ‘un, that’s when he would go. And so, five years after the passing of his former master, one night after Amaryllis and little Hathol were in bed and Anemone had gone home, he called Northlight and Raven into his sitting-room, and told them he could hear Mister Frodo up there calling him a slowpoke. They sat and held his hands, and talked softly of how it would be, and Ginger climbed into his lap and rubbed her face against his cheek. He asked the others to take especial care of her, and they took him to his bed and tucked him in, and Raven put Rosie-doll beside him, set the star-glass on his bed-table and kissed his forehead, then Northlight did the same, both smiling down at him despite the tears glittering on their faces like dew-drops on beautiful flowers. After they had gone out, Sam looked at the light in the glass, and saw a blinding white tunnel, and yes, a stairway, lit by stars going all up it, and faces along the way, and at the very top a light brighter than the sun itself.

And the next morning they found him lying there and smiling, Ginger curled up asleep on his stomach, the light gone out…but his own light lingered about him still, like the last glow of the setting sun.

~*~*~

When at last Belladonna found a worthy mate among the Elves, Anemone moved out of the cottage, despite the protests of the bridal couple, and she went to live in the rooms Sam had once occupied. She no longer designed clothes, having no more heart for it, and she rarely wrote poems, but still she had plenty to keep her busy, and took comfort and joy in her grandchildren and great-grandchildren for all the remaining years of her life. And once more Amaryllis had the comfort of one who was willing to talk of her granddad. Northlight went back to his teaching job and was heartily welcomed, and Hathol proved a very intelligent little lad, and kept his grandmum jumping with the things he said and did. And Peacock was by contrast a wild little scamp who kept his cousin stirred up, and things did not get dull, and so her remaining years were full of activity and contentment and love and hope, surrounded by devoted friends and family and the beauty and virtue of the Island itself. She lived to see Perhael acquire a little sister and Arasirion a brother, and many other births, the marriage of Imrathon and her granddaughter Melda, and Dínlad's with Elanor, as well as the betrothals of Arasirion and Luthien...and of Amaryllis and not-so-little Iorhael.

And she was calm and happy as she watched the couples plight their troth in the Temple, and at the celebration party, she glanced aside and saw Tilwen and Raven watching her, and saw that they knew she would not be there for the weddings. She had thought to go that very night, but decided to wait a few weeks so as not to blight everyone's joy. And then she heard Amaryllis say to Meril that she was certain that Silivren and Young Amonost were sweet on each other and did not know it yet, and wasn't it funny that Silivren would be not only her sister-in-law but her cousin-in-law as well, and that struck the little girl as hilarious and she was overcome with giggles which made Tilwen smile with tears in her eyes....

And Anemone was at once happy and sad that life would go on without her.

And twenty years after the death of her husband, when her son and daughter did not find her in her room one morning, they followed her footprints out to the beach, and there by the little cave where she and her bridegroom first consummated their love, she was found lying on her side with a little smile on her face, her silvered hair spread out behind her on the white and accommodating sand, one hand softly holding to her wedding-pearls. She was buried on the left side of her husband, and the star-glass was placed in the niche, where it lit itself each night, and gave a daylight glow to the three graves and the flowers and trees all around.

The Evenstar pendant was given back to Celebrian, the pearls laid away for Amaryllis. Belladonna and her husband and their children attended to the three graves. And the Beacon continued to glow in the night, sending its beams far out over the sea and into the colors of the aurora and the heart of the evening star, which seemed to take on new brilliance in the indigo bath of the night sky, until it really did seem as though it would be returning to its true home at last.

~*~Finis~*~

Sunset and evening star
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar
When I put out to sea.

But such a tide as moving seems asleep
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For though from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.

--Tennyson

These are lists of Frodo's stepchildren and their children, and the children of his close friends, which I've made because there are so many and this may help to keep track.  I realize that some do not appear in the story or are merely mentioned by other characters, but I made the lists before writing the entire tale in order to help myself keep up with who belonged to whom....(seems Tolkien did the same;))

Children of Anemone:

Darkfin/Greenjade (m)

Fairwind (f)

Moonrise (m)

Embergold (f)

Ebbtide (m)

Northlight (m)

Nightingale (f)

Gloryfall (f)

Raven (adopted) (f)

Children of Fairwind and Barathon:

Emerion (adopted) (m)

Faelon (adopted) (m)

Meriadoc (m)

Eowyn (f)

Children of Embergold:

Sandrose (f)

Onyx (m)

Children of Northlight and Raven:

Amaryllis (f)

Hathol (m)

Children of Moonrise and Sweetfern:

Crystal (m)

Piper (m)

Summershine (f)

Butterfly (f)

Wildwind (m)

Lotus (f)

Tamarind (m)

Children of Ebbtide and Jasmine:

Flamingo (m)

Whitegull (f)

Cormorant (m)

Ibis (m)

Children of Summershine:

Belladonna (f)

Arkenstone (m)

Skylark (f)

Treasure (f)

Glimmerglass (f)

Starbright (f)

Peregrin (m)

Children of Sandrose and Jasper:

Opal (f)

Ruby (f)

Sapphire (f)

Emerald (f)

Garnet (f)

Pearl (f)

Topaz (f)

Amethyst (f)

Children of Onyx:

Harvest (m)

Aurora (f)

Redflame (m)

Lovemist (f)

Evermind (m)

Foxfire (m)

Scarlet (f)

Children of Guilin and Nessima:

Arthion (m)

Turín (m)

Anemone (f)

Carandol (m)

Children of Nightingale and Calanon:

Melda (f)

Elanor (f)

Veryan (m)

Children of Gloryfall and Amonost:

Young Amonost (m)

Evenstar (f)

Lainadan (m)

Primrose (f)

Children of Galendur and Tilwen:

Iorhael (m)

Silivren (f)

Meril (f)

Children of Emleth:

Lindariel (f)

Menelwen (f)

Child of Gandalf and Ríannor:

Arasirion (m)

Children of Seragon and Niniel:

Lyrien (f)

Castiel (f)

Eruestan (m)

Child of Perion and Lyrien:

Perhael (m)

Child of Marílen and Dairuin:

Leandreth (f)