Disclaimer: All the settings and characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien (except for the minstrel Menelor and the more fully realized Farohan who was nameless in the books). This story is my way of working out or interpreting ideas and concepts already present in The Lord of the Rings. This is done for enjoyment, and for sharing, but not for profit.

~ * ~ * ~

Author's Note: I wish to thank Gayalondiel for her invaluable help in both translating a line of Farohan's lay into Sindarin, and for bouncing back and forth ideas about language change and pronunciation difficulties. Thank you, Gaya! I do not know, nor profess to know, anything about Elvish! I do, however, have experience in singing and speaking in languages that have sounds unfamiliar to English ears. For those interested in the reference to the languages of M-e, I have included a brief note at the end of the chapter.

One more comment: I have done something I usually avoid. I have given one clear detail of Frodo's appearance in this chapter that may not be in harmony with many readers' perceptions, especially those who base their own internal views of his looks on what is provided in the Jackson movies. If my one phrase is irksome, I apologize. It comes from my own views of his appearance that have existed for 28 years. Please feel free (of course!) to mentally (or even literally, if you, by any chance, download the chapter) change the one word in particular that may offend. And if no word stands out as peculiar to you, then all is well!

Chapter 10: Of Sacrifice and Song

Once more Farohan sang the words.

Annant în guil a pullir cuino.

Legolas crouched listening intently. Even the slope of the grassy mound did not upset his balance. Farohan watched enviously. The new day's sun was in his eyes and it dazzled him.

"You improve," Legolas said, smiling. "The meaning is clear, and you have mastered the trill of the 'r'. However, you did not keep the true length of the double 'n'. Curious, as you held the double 'l'."

Farohan groaned. "I don't know why. The double 'l' feels better to me. The 'n' is awkward. It comes too early in the phrase."

Legolas murmured the phrase softly. "It sounds well to me."

Farohan shook his head. "I'm sorry. It feels strange to me."

"Have you not used it during your studies? Did you not say that you had sung in Adûnaic?"

Farohan frowned. "Yes, but it didn't have lengthened consonants."

Legolas regarded Farohan, unblinking. "Yes, it did."

Farohan crossed his arms. "No, it didn't!"

Legolas' gaze did not waver. "I remember clearly being told of words spoken by Huor of the House of Hador. There were many doubled consonants."

Farohan spluttered. "The House of Hador? That must have been during the first age! I only studied it as it was during the final days of Númenor. I assure you that there were no long consonants by then."

Legolas considered this, and then inclined his head. "Languages do change."

Farohan plucked a long blade of grass and wove it between his fingers. He closed his eyes, and the inside of his lids glowed red-gold in the brilliance of the sun.

Legolas remained in a crouch.

"I know," said Farohan and he opened his eyes. "I shall sustain most of the first note of the phrase on the 'n' and not that first 'a'. The 'n' will naturally stay long and will help me remember."

He sang the line. "Would that offend Elves' ears?"

"No, it wouldn't," said Legolas. "You sing it well now."

"At last," Farohan said and he stretched and yawned. "Pardon me!" He yawned again and wondered when the sun had risen.

"Perhaps you should sleep," Legolas said. "You have a little more time now. You no longer must have it finished for the day the Ring-bearers awake."

Farohan shook his head. "No. I want to have it ready for whenever Merry needs it."

Legolas looked at him closely, and Farohan flushed. "Perhaps," the Elf said, "you wish to show your master that you could have completed your task if allowed to."

Farohan looked down. "Perhaps," he said softly.

Silence passed.

"I am shamed when I think of why Frodo decided to leave his home," Farohan said.

"Why?" Legolas asked. If possible, it sounded to Farohan as if Legolas were perplexed.

"From what I have been given to understand, Frodo was quite well-to-do; he was comfortably settled. He had no reason to leave. He was not young, and he had no need to prove his worthiness. I have learned that most hobbits enjoy their comforts, and avoid disturbing ideas."

Legolas smiled.

"Yet I have not heard that Frodo once ever tried to avoid the heavy duty that was laid upon him. At the very least he could have passed the burden on to another at the Council of Elrond."

"He could have," Legolas said. "He was afraid, very much so."

"But he didn't," said Farohan. "I have seen mighty warriors who have braved dangers, and I have wished that I could have had their courage. Yet I have known far more of such dangers and lived near Mordor all my life, and yet I don't think I could bear what Frodo of the Shire endured. Nay, I am certain I could not!

"And for what? Why did he leave his homeland? He left to protect others. He left on the strength of a story, fantastical as it may have seemed to a hobbit. He trusted Mithrandir utterly, and the mere idea of the suffering of people known and unknown to him was enough to overcome the warning that all his senses and everyday experiences should have given him. This was no adventure, and he knew it. It was sacrifice."

"Yes," said Legolas. "He often thought of death. He wondered about it, and he feared it."

"He talked to you?" Farohan asked, startled.

"No. But we knew. Elves too wonder about death." Legolas' voice was low. "We know little of it. And we do not bestow the name of Elf-friend lightly. Not all of Frodo's thoughts were closed to us. And none were to the Lady Galadriel."

Farohan nodded. He couldn't speak.

Moments passed, and at last Legolas spoke again. "Let us continue."

Slowly, Farohan nodded. He looked at Legolas apologetically and lay back on the grass much as he had done when he first met Merry. With a visible effort he spoke. "I wish that I could sing the words as if an Elf were singing them. Your speech is liquid and flowing--much more so than ours. Yet I cannot seem to match it with my voice."

Legolas cocked his head and thought for a moment. "Perhaps another way of thinking would help."

"How so?" Farohan picked another strand of grass and tied it into a knot.

"Imagine a skein of silk. When you sing, each note, indeed each vowel, is a rain drop; they glisten, each one pure and shining, yet they are not alone. The drops run swiftly down the silk and so strand and water shimmer together."

Farohan sat up. "I shall think of your bowstring: the shimmer of the hair of the Galadrim!"

He closed his eyes and straightened. The bowstring shone before him. Crystal drops of water flashed in the sun. And he began to sing.

~o~O~o~

Merry grunted, and with a "whoosh!" he sat back.

"There's nothing wrong with your legs, at any rate!" Beregond said to Pippin as he watched Merry rub his stomach gingerly.

Merry chuckled and Pippin glanced at him. "It was you, cousin, who suggested I push against you," he said, aggrieved.

"I may have to re-think that idea," said Merry, but he smiled. "All right then. Let's see how strong your arms are. Push against my hands."

This proved to be more difficult.

"Ow," said Pippin, and he lowered his arms.

"More gently," said Beregond.

Merry nodded. "Sorry, Pip."

Pippin grinned. "My arms are fine. My ribs think otherwise. Luckily, it won't be my arms I'm standing on when Frodo and Sam wake up."

"That would be quite a sight!" said Beregond, and he laughed. "Even so, you'll still feel it!"

"Come on," Merry said, and placed his hand carefully against Pippin's. "Gently."

As Beregond watched the two hobbits begin anew, a gruff voice called from outside the tent.

"Is there anyone within?"

"Gimli," Beregond said, and at a nod from Merry, he raised his voice and bid the Dwarf enter.

Gimli did so, and looked at the stretching with interest.

"You grow in strength, Master Hobbit."

"I do!" said Pippin. "Not quite up to battling orcs, perhaps, but I'll get there."

"I doubt it not!"

"Have you seen Farohan at all?" asked Merry without looking up.

"No," said Gimli, "nor Legolas. It has been a full day since last I saw either one. If the minstrel truly learns Elvish, he attacks it with vigour!"

~o~O~o~

Farohan himself answered Merry's question that evening, as he and Legolas walked out of the woods, deep in conversation. They drew near the campfire.

"Hullo!" said Pippin. He was wrapped securely in blankets against the cool night air, and resting with his back against Beregond who cradled him carefully between arms and legs. "You look tired."

Farohan sat down slowly by the fire. "I am," he said.

"If you keep the company of Elves, you must look to your own need to sleep," said Gimli. "They forget that the rest of us cannot do without!"

"Yet he did sleep," said Legolas, "if not as much as he would have liked."

"And how is his skill in speaking Elvish?" asked Merry.

"It comes apace," said Legolas. "He has great skill in mimicking the sounds. However, the grammar escapes him."

Gimli shuddered and Legolas laughed softly. "Luckily he does not need to know the grammar as I have already translated what he wanted."

"I'm glad to hear that!" said Gimli. "And, Farohan, I hear that you did not mistake Frodo for Sam yesterday."

Legolas smiled at this and Pippin looked up. Merry leaned forward.

"Despite our meddlesome descriptions..." said Pippin.

"Which were true, I'll have you know," said Merry.

"...you still managed to pick Frodo out." Pippin shifted awkwardly and so Beregond leaned back a bit more against the tree behind him. "We've been wondering. What helped you choose?"

Farohan looked closely at each hobbit and suddenly his head tilted back and he smiled. He shook his head. At last he said, "We who tell stories of others learn to see."

"Yes, but how?" said Merry.

Farohan paused. "It was something that Pippin had said."

"What was that?" Pippin asked. He had finally found a comfortable position, and he stopped fidgeting.

Farohan took a deep breath. "You two, and Legolas and Gimli, gave me many descriptions. How could I choose one over another? Perhaps you will remember something you said that would have helped me in my choice."

"How can I remember everything I said?" Pippin asked.

Merry leaned towards him. "I can tell you that I never can."

"Farohan?" Pippin said plaintively.

But Farohan was silent.

And Gimli guffawed.

"The tables have been turned, it seems," said Legolas. "Our harper has his revenge."

Farohan only smiled.

Merry chortled. "I supposed we deserve it."

"Fine for you to say," Pippin said, nettled. "I'm the one who has to try to remember what it was that I said."

"Farohan," said Gimli swiftly. The hobbits stopped and looked at him. "What did you think of Frodo and Sam when you saw them? Were they what you thought they might be like?"

Once more all eyes turned to Farohan. "Yes," said Beregond. "I would like to know. I'm the only one here who has never seen them. I look forward to the day they awaken."

Farohan looked at him. "Then I would tell you that it wasn't that they were or were not as I imagined them but rather that, in seeing them, I understood more."

"How so?" Beregond asked.

"One's face says much. Even when I cannot hear the person speak, I can see what his thoughts and emotions have done to the shaping of his face. Are they merry or sad? Thoughtful or sour?" Farohan turned to the hobbits. "Sam seems to be one who enjoys being with people. Yet he wears his emotions easily and openly. There is no tension nor excess of display. His devotion to his Master must be deep but calm."

Merry nodded. "There was never any question in his mind, that he would follow Frodo wherever he went."

"Frodo, though..." prompted Pippin.

Farohan raised his hands, palms out. "No, no! Please don't ask me about him. Not yet. Please wait until I sing the lay. But," and he hurried on, "I would very much like to know this: you said that Frodo had a bright eye. What did you mean by that? What is the colour of his eyes?"

"Ah," Pippin said. "A deep warm brown--soft and gentle. And yet they changed with his moods -- dark when he was angry, but with a sparkle when he was merry. And when he dreamed of adventure, there would be a light in them, like starlight... like the elves." He stopped then and shook himself. He laughed. "There I go, getting maudlin again. Just like the other day."

But Merry shook his head. "No, not entirely maudlin. I saw it too, and I loved him for it."

All were silent. As Farohan thought of Pippin's words, he began to have the odd sensation that Frodo himself sat with them, silently watching with a calm but warm gaze--making no judgement but with hidden thought.

Slowly the sounds around them began to intrude once more. The fire crackled. Men spoke in the near distance at their own fires, and footsteps grew louder. Then the steps suddenly ceased.

He looked up to find Menelor standing near, gazing at him with an unreadable expression.

"Master Harper," said Legolas. "Would you join us?"

Menelor turned to him. "I thank you for your invitation, but I do not have the time." He faced Farohan once more. "I see that you spend time with your friends, yet I need your help with the lay."

Farohan began to rise, but Menelor shook his head. "I don't intend that you come at once. Finish your talking first." Menelor looked briefly around the group and inclined his head. Then he was gone.

"What was that about," asked Pippin. "What would he need you for? Doesn't he know the story?"

"He does," said Farohan. He took a deep breath. "I think that he wants to ask me about Frodo himself."

"Hmph!" said Merry. "He could ask us instead!"

"I know," said Farohan unhappily. "But it took me a lot of time to understand what I do of Frodo. It took me too long. My master doesn't have time. It is easier for him to use my thoughts instead."

Merry scowled. "I didn't take you to their tent so that you could spy on them for your master."

"I...I won't. I haven't," Farohan said miserably. "But I must tell him at least something of what I know."

"Then make it simple," Merry said. "If he doesn't know that you have seen them, don't tell him! Only tell him what you knew up to when he took the lay away from you."

"I won't," said Farohan. "I promise." He stood up.

"Is he displeased that you are also writing a lay?" asked Beregond.

"I...I don't know," said Farohan. "I haven't really seen him since he took on the task himself."

And with that, he left.

~o~O~o~

Pippin was the first to break the silence once Farohan had left.

"I like that!" he said and shook his head. "Take the task away from him and then expect him to do the work!"

"I am not surprised that Farohan hasn't seen his master these past few days," said Gimli. "They must have been avoiding each other."

"That tears it," Merry said, with such heat that the others looked at him in surprise.

"What?" said Pippin.

"This is silly. The whole thing. Farohan should be the one singing at the gathering. First thing tomorrow, I am going to talk to Aragorn."

"Woah!" said Pippin. "His mind is already made up. He won't listen to you."

A steely glint came to Merry's eyes. "Oh, but I rather think he will."

To be continued

Language note: The translation of the line, "Annant în guil a pullir cuino" can be interpreted as "He offered his life, so that others may live," or the more literal, but slightly less meaningfully-exact, "He gave his life, and they / the others lived."

Farohan's decision to sustain a note primarily on a consonant instead of a vowel comes from the idea that an 'n' can easily be continuous, unlike many consonants. I don't know if Elves would have ever sung on an 'n', but it is common, certainly, in Japanese music, and can be done melodiously. I have therefore taken the liberty of suggesting that this is possible in Sindarin. A somewhat supportive instance could also be taken from the beginning of the (Quenyan) phrase mornie alantië as sung by Enya in May It Be. There, a seperate "lead-in" note is sustained on the 'm'.

I also used these two websites to help me in with extrapolating historical change in Adûnaic: Ardalambion and The Encyclopedia of Arda. Any inaccuracies, however, are my own!