Elrond’s body felt an agony of exhaustion, thirst and hunger. He stood in his garden under beloved stars, a breeze rustled his cloak and hair, but all he felt was the darkness and a terrible pain beyond anything he had ever felt as he watched and felt the tortuous path taken by the two hobbits.

He watched as Frodo’s hand often reached up to answer the call of the Ring and slowly return to his side as his will recalled it. Each time the Elf lord could feel another tear in his brother’s fëa as it fought off the assault. It was bleeding in so many places now. Elrond wished to cradle it, but he knew not how to staunch such a great number of wounds.

Adar, please, Adar, stop this. How can they bear this any longer?

They are near to the finish.

To their own?

To the one long designed.

Elrond watched as Frodo stopped, unable to go further, head bent between knees, arms dangling at his side, hands twitching.

Oh, gwador nîn, Elrond thought in grief and admiration. And shame. For he realized it was his own strength to endure what he felt only through the gift of Ilúvatar that was failing, and not the strength and courage of the ones who were truly bearing the terrible burdens.

A song rose in him then, one he had sung to his children or had heard his wife sing, thousands of years previously, as they slept. Now in his garden, under the stars, he softly raised his voice again.

“Sleep, thou child of Eru,

Safe in His embrace;

May Elbereth surround thee

With her light and grace.

Close thine eyes, beloved,

May thy dreams be blest;

Sleep, thou child of Eru,

And may thy soul find rest.

“Sleep, thou child of Eru;

Dreams I’ll weave for thee:

Dreams of rivers flowing

Onward to the sea,

Dreams of stars that glisten

In the heavens high,

Dreams of fields and forests,

Slumb’ring ’neath the sky.

“Sleep, thou child of Eru,

Cradled in His arms;

May His love surround thee,

Keeping thee from harm.

Hush now, my beloved,

May thy dreams be blest.

Sleep, thou child of Eru,