Author's note: In "The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien," Tolkien wrote that Frodo was sent or allowed to pass over the Sea to heal him -- if that could be done, before he died... so he went both to a purgatory and to a reward, for a while: a period of reflection and peace and a gaining of a truer understanding of his position in littleness and in greatness, spent still in Time amid the natural beauty of 'Arda Unmarred,' the Earth unspoiled by Evil. (Tolkien, The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, #328)

In "White Shores," I plan to explore what it might have been that Frodo goes through in both this purgatory and this reward.

Arrival

It was a dance, Frodo decided. The white gulls wheeled overhead, gliding in turns of excitement and curiosity.

One bird landed on the prow before Frodo and fixed one shining black eye upon him. For a long moment, the gull regarded Frodo imperiously and then, with a sudden flap of grey-white wings, launched itself up into the blue.

The green shores were closer now, yet it seemed as if time were paused -- stopped between one moment and the next where the Elven boat did not move and only the shore itself silently, slowly, slid forwards.

Weary, Frodo crossed his arms on the wooden gunwale, laid his head down upon them and closed his eyes.

* * *

The lap-lap of the calm water against the hull slid into his mind as the outside world slowly focused into solidity. And where there was no feeling before came a warm hand upon his shoulder -- the touch growing from muzzy emptiness into the sharp clarity of fingers upon skin.

"Frodo," said Lord Elrond. "We are here."

And so Frodo allowed himself to be led, stumbling, down the plank on to the searing white shores. His eyes stung from the brightness and they watered.

"I can't see," he said to no-one in particular. "It's too bright."

He felt an old wizened hand slide into his.

"Never mind, lad," said Bilbo, and Frodo could feel the quick eager trembling. "We will go together."

"Yes," said a deep voice and a large gnarled hand clasped his elbow. "It is not far, Frodo," said Gandalf.

But Frodo's eyes could not open against the glare. His foot snagged against a stone and he lurched.

Strong and graceful arms caught him and bore him from that place to where he did not know.

* * *

When Frodo awoke, the salt smell was still in the air and the caw-caw of the gulls ran ever in their never-ceasing cry. Cautiously he opened his eyes, but the white brilliance beat fiercely at him and he brought his hand up to cover his face.

"Do not fret," said a soft voice by his side, and Frodo could feel his head being lifted and a cloth made of soft silken stuff bound about his head. "This is thin and it will allow you to open your eyes."

What the voice said was true and Frodo found that indeed he did not need to guard against the light. Cautiously he relaxed and his eyes opened fully.

There at his side was an elf -- an ageless being of beauty. It seemed to Frodo that she had something of the look of both Arwen and Galadriel about her. And yet, he thought immediately, that would not be surprising as they had been the only female elves he'd seen much of. He truly did not have much to go on.

"I beg your pardon," he stammered.

"There is no need," said the Elf with a gentle laugh. "You have woken from a deep sleep and much seems strange to you."

"Yes," said Frodo and he slowly sat up. The room tilted and he hung on hard to the edges of the bed. A surprisingly firm hand steadied him at his back.

"Do not attempt too much too soon, Frodo Baggins," she said to him. "You still recover from your journey and you are unused to this place."

Frodo lay down again. "You know my name," he said. "I am sorry that I cannot properly introduce myself to you."

"Whereupon you'd bow, no doubt, and put yourself at my service," the Elf said merrily. "It is just as well that I have kept you from your proper introductions. I doubt at the moment that you would manage a bow in the manner of your kind."

"Probably not," said Frodo, thankful that he had indeed escaped that duty. "And yet I do not know your name."

"I am the daughter of one with whom you travelled, the wife of another, and the mother of whom you bid farewell before you ever returned to your own land."

Frodo looked at her in surprise. "Are you, then, Lady Celebrían?"

"I am," she said smiling. "And you are the second cousin once removed of Mr. Bilbo Baggins whom you sometimes call uncle."

"Bilbo!" cried Frodo and he raised himself on his elbows. "Is he here? Is he all right?"

"Do not worry about your uncle," said Celebrían swiftly. "He has waited by your bedside while you slept but has now begun to explore this city. He will return."

Frodo said nothing. Instead he very slowly sat up. The room did not tilt, and so, very cautiously, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. However, the floor was too far away and, through the cloth, he could only see muted brilliance.

Celebrían immediately knelt and drew something towards Frodo. His feet found beneath them a sturdy stool, and they rested upon it.

"If you wish to walk," Celebrían said, "you would do well to hold on to my arm. There are steps and ways unfamiliar to you."

"I think I shall sit here a moment before I try," said Frodo. His hands still gripped the sheets.

After a pause, he spoke again. "Forgive me, but I do not understand why you are here. You are very kind in aiding me, but don't you wish to be with Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel?"

Even though he could not see her face clearly, Frodo knew that she was laughing silently.

"I have seen them and I have been with them, Frodo. And I will be with them for many ages to come. Our reunion filled me with joy. It has also given me sorrow, for I have lost my daughter. But time will give me in turns both comfort and solace. And time is not as precious for us as it is for mortals. I can wait now that we have spent days together."

"Days," said Frodo uncertainly. "How many has it been since the ship arrived?"

"Three," answered Celebrían. "Yes," she added at Frodo's sound of surprise. "You have slept for three days. You needed it, I think -- for both your body and your mind."

"And... and Bilbo?" Frodo's voice was small.

"He slept for one day, and woke with renewed vigour. He has taken well to living among Elves. Come!" she added encouragingly. "Try to walk. I will steady you."

Reluctantly, Frodo stood. He wavered, but, true to her word, Celebrían held one hand at his back, and one at his elbow.

He stepped down from the stool and his feet met a cool hard floor.

"Why can't I see in this place," he asked. "It is too bright for me. Does Bilbo also wear a cloth over his eyes?"

Celebrían hesitated and then said very gently, "No. He did not need it. He has adapted quickly to the Blessed Realm."

"And I have not." Frodo's voice was flat.

Celebrían did not answer but instead guided Frodo to a door. It led outside to a wide verandah with sides that came up to his chest. Frodo stood against that half-wall, but it was not until Celebrían brought the stool from by the side of his bed that Frodo could see over the top.

They were near the white shores of Tol Eressëa that lay between Avallónë and the Sea. Waves rolled and white birds soared.

"If Sam were here," Frodo said absentmindedly, "he'd be planning hobbit-sized railings and furniture, no doubt," But as the words hung in the air, Frodo felt a great anguish welling up inside. He could not speak further and he stared out to sea.

Celebrían stood beside him and she followed his gaze.

"When I came here, and I was lonely and afraid," she said, "I did just as you are doing now. I looked to the Sea."

Frodo nodded dumbly. Celebrían 's voice was soothing.

"I would look to the Sea," she said once more. "Often I did not know what I was searching for: a glimpse of the home I had left? The comfort of the music of the waves? Sometimes it did not matter. If I could see the Sea, then I would have comfort."

But still Frodo did not answer. He crossed his arms on the wall edge and lowered his head upon them.

"I did not know who I was here," Celebrían mused. "I had not come willingly, and I did not know this place. It was the Final Refuge, and it promised me healing, but I was alone. And I did not know who I was."

"As I do not," Frodo said then and he raised his head. "Everyone has names for me: Ring-bearer; Iorhael they called me on the ship. But I don't know who I am any more. Everyone else seems to know, but I have lost myself."

"And so," said Celebrían, "you must find yourself again. You must find out who Frodo is. After all of your journeys and deeds, and your comings home and discoveries and losses, what you must do is find out, and tell us all who you truly are."

Frodo looked at her and he frowned. "As simple as that," he said shortly.

"Hardly simple," said Celebrían and she smiled at him. "Nay, do not recoil, Frodo. I do not jest with you. For this is truly what you must do if you are to find healing here."

"And... how do I do this?" asked Frodo hesitantly.

Celebrían smiled. "The bed was too high, was it not? And this parapet is difficult for you to see over, is it not? And I assure you that those steps yonder are quite steep -- too steep for hobbits.

"Why then, Frodo -- you must build a house."

To be continued