October 4 1419 S.R.
Rivendell

“Uncle Bilbo?”

“Hmmmm?”

“May I ask you something?”

“Of course, my boy, what is it?”

Frodo sat with his elderly cousin before a roaring fire in the latter’s rooms, both having turned down an invitation to join Elrond’s household in the Hall of Fire for one last dinner with its Elven residents ere the departure of the Four Travellors on the morrow. Instead they had shared a quiet dinner, talking quietly about old times, even laughing at the fond memories they shared.

Finally, Bilbo had shown Frodo a translation he was working on of a Quenya poem, helping him to read the spidery script before they settled down to share a pipe and a cup of warm, mulled apple cider. All evening, Bilbo had shown an unusual amount of energy as often than not these days if he sat down for any amount of time he usually nodded off within moments. Frodo was grateful to have this opportunity to ask his uncle a question that had been bothering him since their arrival to Rivendell.

“Well, Frodo-lad, are you going to ask me your question?” Bilbo asked, his eyes shining clear with curiosity.

Frodo was startled out of his thoughts, and he looked at Bilbo, “Oh yes, I am sorry, uncle.” Frodo sighed, “Bilbo-dear, h-how did you know that the...the, um, Ring had been destroyed?”

Bilbo sighed, taking one last puff on his pipe he laid it aside, and he reached out to touch Frodo’s maimed hand saying, “I knew It was gone, my dear boy, because of the reaction of the Elves.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Think back to the great Council of the Wise held by Master Elrond,” Bilbo prompted gently, “Do you remember how the Elves responded when Gandalf spoke the Elven lore about the Ring in the Black Speech?”

Frodo shuddered as hearing that awful language aloud was still very much a memory fresh in his mind, “Of course, uncle. I remember how we were all disconcerted at hearing the Dark Lord’s tongue but the Elves, Lord Elrond especially, seemed almost physically distressed!”

Bilbo nodded, “Precisely, they seemed that way because to them, beings of Light, it was physically distressing, almost painful one might say, to hear those hateful words of the Dark Lord’s tongue.”

His throat seemed to have gone dry all of a sudden and so Bilbo took a sip of his cider, swallowed, continuing, “You ask me, my dear boy, how I knew the Ring had been destroyed.” Frodo nodded at this as his uncle continued, “I knew because I happen to be in the library with Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen on the morning the Ring was destroyed...”

The morning had been a quiet one, and if it were not already known to the inhabitants of Imladris, no one would ever have guessed that there was a war raging on in the world outside, a war whose outcome would decide the fates of many, for good or ill. “...and that, Frodo-lad, is how I knew the Ring was destroyed...”

In between light dozing, Bilbo had been researching the Age of the Trees, Elrond and Arwen providing him whatever assistant they could around pursuing projects of their own. Elrond was sitting at one of the many desks scattered throughout the room writing, and Arwen was retrieving another book for him when it happened.

At the moment the Ring was fell into the Fires of Mount Doom, Vilya lit up as a blue star on Elrond’s finger, immediately drawing the attention of both Bilbo and Arwen. Elrond groaned from the intensity of what he sensed, as though he were in pain, causing his daughter to hurry to his side, her book forgotten.

“Ada, are you well?” she asked, concern in her voice as she knelt beside his chair, and took his hand into hers.

Elrond laughed, loud and long, causing the concern on Arwen’s face to further deepen before he said, “Can you not feel, hên-nîn? The Shadow has been lifted! The Ringbearer has fulfilled his Quest! The Ring is destroyed!” Then suddenly they heard voices from within and without the House singing in unadulterated joy that, at last, Isildur’s Bane was gone from the world forever, and with It the Dark Lord, Sauron!

FIN