Chapter 3: The Dance of the Sea

"You need not build now," said Celebrían to Frodo the morning after their talk in front of the hole. "Nor do you need to make plans. Take some time for yourself to think and to ponder."

And so it was in the late afternoon that Frodo found himself wandering down by the shoreline for the first time since he had arrived. He had heard the pounding of the waves and the cry of the gulls each day, of course, but it seemed too heavy. There was a power in those sounds and Frodo had shied away.

But now Frodo walked on the shore. The sun on the water dazzled, and so he wore the cloth that shielded his eyes. The sand was smooth and soft under his feet.

He did not know how long he had been there when a deep voice came from behind him.

"I am glad you have chosen to come to the water."

"Elrond!" cried Frodo with delight and he turned to greet him.

Elrond smiled. "How have you fared, Frodo," he asked. "I have not seen you at any gatherings, nor have you visited the shores before."

Frodo hesitated. "Have I been expected?"

"Welcomed is a better word," said Elrond. "Yet none are dismayed that you choose to stay away for now. When you are ready, you will come."

Frodo had no answer for this. He watched apprehensively as Elrond walked into the water.

"The water is warm and soothing," said Elrond. "Come. It will ease you."

"I… I’d rather not," said Frodo. Another wave curled over itself and crashed into foam. He stepped back.

Elrond came from the water’s edge.

"You spoke much of the Sea, Frodo, while we sailed here. You have dreamt of it many times. Why do you treat it so gingerly now?"

"I haven’t…" began Frodo, but then he looked into those clear eyes. "I have been afraid," he said simply.

"Why?" asked Elrond. He regarded Frodo closely.

Frodo quailed under that gaze. "It’s… it’s too powerful. I will lose myself in it… what’s left of me. It is too much."

"You would not come to any harm, Frodo," said Elrond. "Come." And he held out his hand.

Frodo took the hand slowly but he obediently followed Elrond to the edge. He stepped into the water.

The sand shifted under his feet. Wavelets lifted and pulled at his foot hair, the foam hissing past his ankles.

He followed Elrond in up to his knees. Water surged and fell in rhythm. He looked apprehensively at the large waves that were closer now.

"You swam when you were young," said Elrond.

Frodo nodded jerkily.

"You will not have forgotten." The Elf released Frodo’s hand and stepped back onto dry sand.

But when Elrond was gone, Frodo retreated to the shore. He sat down and stared out at the waves for a long time.

* * *

The next day, Frodo sought Elrond out.

"I want to try," he said, "but I am afraid, and I don’t know how not to be."

"You must face the Sea," Elrond said. "You have the sea-longing, but you do not truly know the Sea. You must face it, listen to its voice and its music. Be in it."

"I am broken," Frodo said then. "I have faced many dangers and have lived, but it is as if they have taken my courage. With no Quest to hold me, I have nothing left. It has taken everything. Where may I find courage?"

"With joy," said Elrond and he took Frodo once more to the water.

When they stood there, feet in the wet sand, Frodo laughed shortly. "I have no garments to swim in."

Elrond turned to him. "What would you do in the Shire?"

Frodo blinked. "Go naked. We would not trouble ourselves with modesty."

Elrond smiled with a touch of mirth at the corners of his eyes.

"Then do not trouble yourself here. Go naked, Frodo, and feel the water around you."

Frodo looked up at the cliffs. "Would that not be unseemly? I do not wish to offend."

"It would not," Elrond answered. "Do not fear censure, Frodo. It is more unseemly to feel restraint because of an imagined sense of propriety. This is Arda Unmarred. All things natural give delight to all."

And so Frodo removed his clothing and threw it from him. The breeze felt cool on his skin.

Elrond led him out into the water. When they were in up to Frodo’s waist, the Elf Lord stood calmly, his robes trailing in the water. Waves beat at them and Frodo felt fear.

Elrond nodded slowly. "You believe you are broken and that you failed your Quest. Now you must begin to rebuild your faith. You will come to no harm here. Ulmo, Lord of Waters, will not allow it."

Frodo shivered.

"Go further in, Frodo," Elrond commanded. He turned and strode back to the shore.

The water tugged and pushed Frodo and he stumbled. "Alone?" he cried, but he already knew the answer. He slowly turned and looked out at the heaving Sea. After a moment, he gingerly stepped forward. The water foamed and surged around his waist and his feet lifted off the bottom. With a whoosh and a scramble he crested the wave and landed with a jolt on hard sand. His legs stung.

"Go further." It was as if it were an edict in his mind. And so, trembling, he obeyed. The Sea was roiling grey green -- it seemed to Frodo that even if all life were to end and the stars fall from the heavens, this massive living water, the great powerful expanse, would never cease. The endless waves would pound the shores forever.

A swell caught him unawares and it slapped him in the face. He gasped and coughed. Salt stung in his eyes

Go further!

Frodo went further. Even on the down swells, the water was now at his waist. But as he crept forward and as each wave hit him, he soon found that his desperate jumps and floundering were becoming smoother. He no longer held himself immobile and suffered each stinging attack of salt water but rather he began to push upward with each swell so that he rode the wave.

Go further. This was not enough, Frodo knew. And yet, if he went much further in, he'd not have firm purchase on the sandy bottom.

If he were to go further, the waves would be taller than himself. He wavered, torn by two desires: to flee those menacing walls of water, and to stay -- to obey the silent command he felt in every part of his being.

Another wave raced towards him and just as the water rose, he sprang upward, one leg pushing off the sand, the other bent and his arms outstretched. He rode the crest and he came down, landing softly on bent legs. No time did he have to marvel at the ease of the movement, for another wave chased the first and the power of straightening his body changed to yet another leap which carried him up and through the surge and gasping, exhilarated, to the other side.

No stinging slap of water. No panicked scramble to stay upright. For that moment, Frodo felt his tired stiff body become as fluid and supple as an Elf's. He was dancing in the waves!

And then a giggle surprised him. As he gently pushed forward into a small swell, he thought, if only hobbits in the Shire could see him now. A mad Baggins dancing in the waves! What would they think? No doubt they would expect as much from that outlandish Brandybuck lad. Cracked!

What a glorious thing it is to be cracked, he thought and then, without thinking, jumped into the next wave. Up and over!

The sand was soft and fluid under his feet as he came down with bent legs. He was no longer jolted by crashing down stiffly.

Time to go further. Frodo threw fear to the winds and leaped forward. As he topped the next rise of water, he knew that he was in over his head. And yet, the troughs between the waves were low enough for his feet to seek purchase on the sandy bottom in time to spring upward to the next rolling swell. As long as he danced, he would not be overcome.

Frodo danced. A fierce exultation of joy filled him and he danced.

And the warm water welcomed him.

To be continued