Many thanks to my Livejournal friends, with whom I consulted about the appearance of Celebrimbor in this story.

THE PATH TO HEALING

Chapter 5  -- Kindred Spirits

...and dying they are gathered to the halls of Mandos in Valinor, whence they may in time return.  ‘Of the Beginning of Days’, The Silmarillion

A gentle twilight was settling over the island by the time supper was over.  Bilbo had retired to his study to write, and Frodo was walking with Mellon through one of their gardens, breathing deeply of the fragrant blooms, when he saw someone coming up the path.  Tall, and noble of face, the Elf shone with a light all his own, radiating peace... but also loss and suffering, hope and uncertainty.  Frodo, whose senses had been greatly heightened even before leaving Middle-earth, felt his heart moved with empathy as Celebrimbor approached.  He knows, Frodo thought.  He feels as I do.  Tears were streaming down his face when Celebrimbor reached him, and the Elf knelt and gently took the hobbit into his arms.

He glows as one who has seen the Trees, or one of grandfather’s gems, Celebrimbor thought, deeply moved by the Ringbearer’s open heart and gentle radiance.  But he is wounded, down deep where few can reach.  I am glad I came.

At last Frodo pulled back, and wiped his face.  “Frodo Baggins, at your service, and your family’s,” he whispered, bowing low.

“And I am at your service, Frodo Baggins.” Celebrimbor stood up, and bowed as well.  “I am Celebrimbor.  Would that I indeed had family, but I am the last of my House.”

“I know,” Frodo said.  “Gandalf told me about you.”  He peered up at the Elf curiously.  “If you have no family, why would you... return?”

“A bold question,” Celebrimbor said with a smile.  “Few have been courageous enough to ask me that.”

“Won’t you come in?” Frodo asked.

“Thank you, Frodo.  Your home appears most welcoming, but may we speak out here?  I mean no offense, but I spend very little time indoors.”

“Of course we may.  Please excuse me for a moment, while I fetch some tea.”

When Frodo returned with a tray, he found Celebrimbor sitting on one of the comfortable benches set among the gardens and paths, Mellon lying nearby in the cool grass.

“Thank you,” the Elf said, taking a cup of the steaming beverage.

“If you don’t mind my asking, why don’t you like being indoors?” Frodo asked.  "Mellon doesn't like it much, either, but I think our home may be a bit small for her comfort.”

“You may ask me anything,” Celebrimbor smiled.  “I spent too many years at my forge, hidden behind walls so that none could learn my secrets.  And later, at the end...” He grew solemn.  “I was held captive by Sauron, and... died under his torture.  Walls and enclosures make me somewhat uncomfortable.”

Frodo found himself blinking back tears again.  I came so close to meeting the same fate, he thought.  Taken captive, tortured to death or worse... if Sam had not found me...

“And so, I need to breathe clean air, and feel the wind on my face.  We all bear wounds,” Celebrimbor said quietly.  “Some are physical, some are not.  You and I... we bear wounds of the flesh, as well as those that are more deeply hidden.”

“You are not healed?” Frodo asked in amazement.  “You died... and returned.  Were you not made whole?”

“I am Celebrimbor still, my friend,” the Elf said gravely, “as you are Frodo Baggins, and always will be.  Our bodies and spirits retain the memory of our lives’ journey, but we are given choices – and help along the way – to make peace with what has occurred, and not be enslaved by the past."  He took Frodo's four-fingered hand and held it gently.  "It is the effect of our wounds that must heal, Frodo – not always the wounds themselves.”

“I am not in pain, but after the Quest I would at times grow weak and feel... lost and empty,” Frodo confided.  “Do you know about that?”

“I have spoken about you at length with Elrond and Gandalf; I hope you do not mind.”

“No, but...”  Frodo sighed.  “It is difficult to explain what happens to me when I am struck with the loss of the Ring.  I never really talked about it even with Sam, as I didn’t know why it was happening.”

“You said it yourself, Frodo,” Celebrimbor said.  “It is loss.  Fëanor poured the greater part of his spirit into the Silmarils, and Sauron into his Ring.  I was fortunate that I did not lose a greater portion of myself when my rings were dispersed; but still, I felt loss and a certain connection.  I sensed when Sauron put the Ring on his finger... and when you did.  I mourned, as you mourn.”

“Mourn?”

“Indeed, yes.  You mourn the damage done to your home and kin while you were on your Quest.  You mourn the loss of the Ring, and of your quiet, peaceful life.  You mourn that which you believe you could have been... or should have been, had you been stronger.”  Celebrimbor gazed steadily at Frodo.  “I have a theory, if you would like to hear it.”

“Of course.”

“The Dark Lord’s greatest weapon is despair, Frodo.  Emptiness... loss of hope... loss of joy.  The One Ring was taken against your will -- twice.  The dark malice carried in blade and bite work still, to remind you of what you lost, and what you believe you lost.  It blinds you to what you are, and the true glory of what you achieved."

Frodo was silent.

“You asked why I chose to return to a physical life,” Celebrimbor continued.  “I sensed that I had something yet to accomplish here.  My tasks were not finished.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know why I created the rings, Frodo?”

“You hoped to help your people.  You thought you were crafting a means for them to preserve what they had, and enhance what they made.”

Celebrimbor stared at him in wonder.  “You understand that better than most.”

Frodo hung his head.  “I, too, wished only to help.”

“You believe that because you could not destroy the One Ring on your own, that somehow you are a failure.”

“Sometimes,” Frodo whispered.

“Only those who desire to rule others wish to stand alone, Frodo.  To claim the Ring could have been accomplished alone, at any time during your Quest.  But to destroy it took many people, and many events coming together – as well as the blessing of Powers beyond our knowledge.  It was humbling for me to realize that if I had not been so secretive, so stubborn, I might have recognized Sauron’s identity and influence much sooner than I did... and events might have unfolded much differently.  But that is past, as your Quest is past.  We can work only with the present.  And so I have returned, to learn how to help my people in true and humble service -- and in a way that brings no harm.”

“Tell me about it,” Frodo said.

“I have become a healer, and rejoice in it.  I will soon be taking the son of Eärendil as apprentice, so that he may learn the benefits of the herbs and plants growing here.  I have no doubt he has much to teach me, as well.”

“Lord Elrond, an apprentice?” Frodo smiled at the thought.  “I didn’t think Elves got sick.”

“We heal more quickly than mortals, and are less prone to illness, it is true,” Celebrimbor said.  “However, accidents occur, whether on land or sea.”  He pointed out a patch of herb growing nearby.  “Do you know the properties of asëa aranion?”

Frodo nodded.  “I was happy to see it here, although it looks a bit different.  Aragorn called it athelas.”

“King’s leaf,” Celebrimbor nodded.  “The meaning is much the same.  But the herb you knew is but a pale remnant of that which the Elves of this land originally gifted to the Men of Númenor, who then brought it to Middle-earth.  This plant – and others like it – has great power, especially after millenia of careful study and enhancement.  It is knowledge such as this that I will impart to Elrond, who lived all his life in Middle-earth.”

“Can you help me?” Frodo asked suddenly.  “Is that why you’re here?”

“I have been drawn to speak with you,” Celebrimbor smiled, “and it is clear to me that my heart spoke well.  Frodo, an object of power was taken against your will.  In order to be at peace, I believe you must give something of power, in full agreement and joy of heart, and see it gone.  As I must.”

“I don’t understand.”

Celebrimbor reached into a pouch at his waist, and withdrew something.  He opened his hand, and Frodo gasped with amazement.  There before him were Vilya, Nenya, and Narya -- the three rings that had been wielded by Elrond, Galadriel, and Gandalf.

“And so they come back to me,” the Elf marvelled.  “The Bearers returned them.”

“What will you do with them?”

“The choice is mine, and I choose to return them to the air, the water, and the fire, each ring to its own end.  It will not be easy to say farewell, again, to these creations of my heart; and so I might not have the strength to see this through alone.  Frodo, you could not destroy the One Ring on your own, thus you are haunted by feelings of failure and loss -- magnified through physical wounds of the Enemy.  The best acts are not achieved alone, but with others of like will and heart.  I have thought of a way for both of us to find new strength, and a measure of healing that will grow throughout the rest of our lives.”  He smiled at Frodo.  “I have asked Gandalf to arrange a very special meeting.  Would you assist me in seeing these rings to their final destination?”

“A new quest?” Frodo asked hesitantly, his heart sinking.

Celebrimbor tilted up the hobbit’s chin with a gentle finger and shook his head.

“A new beginning,” he said softly.

** TBC **