THE VAULT OF ANNÚMINAS

This chapter references “When the King Comes Back” chapter 13.

Chapter 5:  A Perspective on Elves

Then the enchantment became more and more dreamlike, until he felt that an endless river of swelling gold and silver was flowing over him, too multitudinous for its pattern to be comprehended; it became part of the throbbing air about him, and it drenched and drowned him.  Swiftly he sank under its shining weight into a deep realm of sleep.  ‘Many Meetings’, The Fellowship of the Ring

Aragorn knelt by Frodo’s bed, wishing he didn’t have to wake his young friend.  The room was bathed in a rosy glow from the sun’s first rays.  It was a beautiful summer day, and looked to be fine weather for travelling.

“It is morning, little one,” he said softly to the sleeping tween.  Hearing his voice, Scamp poked her head out from under the tangled blankets, her pink tongue curling in a yawn.  She scooched forward toward the Ranger’s hand to get scratched and petted.

As Scamp’s tail thumped him in the nose, Frodo giggled and opened his eyes.  He sat up, dark curls tumbling about his face.

“Is it time?” Frodo asked, his eyes sparkling.  “Do you think I packed everything I’ll need?  Did you sleep all right?  Is Bilbo awake?  What time is it?”

Aragorn chuckled at the barrage of questions.

“Nearly, yes, yes, no, and just past sunrise,” he responded, smiling at the lad.  “Elladan and I have eaten already, but take your time getting ready.  Feed Scamp and have some breakfast, then meet us down in the field.  We’ll take the packs.”  He gave Frodo a hug, then left the room.

Frodo leaped out of bed, washed, then donned his most comfortable traveling clothes.  Scamp, sensing that something out of the ordinary was happening, sat on the bed, watching his every move.

On his way to the kitchen, Frodo stopped by Bilbo’s room and gently pushed open the door.  Moving quietly to the bed, he watched his uncle sleep.  Bilbo’s face was no longer flushed with fever, and he was breathing deeply and easily.  Relieved, Frodo left a folded note on the bedside table, then bent and lightly kissed his uncle’s brow.

“I’ll be back in a few weeks,” Frodo whispered.  “Thank you for letting me go.”

*~*~*~*~*

By the time Frodo and Scamp raced down to the field, the horses and pony had been watered and brushed.  Arthad and Biscuit were saddled, and the various packs and satchels were fastened comfortably to them.  Elladan had tied the baby sling loosely about his waist, for use later in the day, and had a quiver of arrows, several long knives, and an unstrung bow strapped to his back.  Frodo’s eyes widened at the length of the bow, the longest and most powerful he had ever seen.

“Don’t you use a saddle?” Frodo asked Elladan curiously.

“Very rarely,” Elladan answered, patting Romaryn fondly.  “Over many years of practice, we learn to communicate our needs to our mounts in ways they can understand.  There is usually no need of such equipment.”

Frodo nodded, feeling the slight unease return which had kept him awake and thinking long into the night.  Elladan was three thousand years old.  What a child he must seem in the Elf’s eyes.

“Are you ready, Frodo?” Aragorn asked, mounting Arthad.  “Why don’t you give me Scamp to hold for awhile?  There is no need to confine her until she grows restless.”

Frodo nodded, scooped up Scamp from the cool, dew-laden grass, and handed her up to the Ranger.  Scamp settled into the crook of Aragorn’s left arm, looking about curiously.

Frodo swung up onto Biscuit’s saddle, tremendously excited.  As Aragorn rode forward, Frodo took one last look up the lane toward Bag End before urging Biscuit into a brisk walk next to Arthad, with Elladan just behind them.

Following farm lanes, the trio rode northeast from The Hill, taking occasional breaks to rest the horses and pony, nibble some fruit or cheese, and allow Scamp to run about.  They bypassed Overhill, and by late morning, reached the branch of The Water that meandered up into the Northfarthing.

For several hours, Frodo had been unusually quiet.  Aragorn was about to remark on it when the boy finally spoke.

“This must be the way Halbarad went,” Frodo said.  The path on which they rode, alongside the sparkling stream, was well travelled.  “How is he?”

“Quite well,” Aragorn smiled down at the boy.  “Since meeting with the Dwarves, he has grown vastly in confidence and diplomatic skills.  I have come to greatly rely on him, and his brother.”  He slowed his horse, and Frodo and Elladan did likewise.  “We will stop for lunch in a few hours, before turning east toward the road, to give the animals a good rest; but I believe it is time now for Elladan to take his turn with Scamp.  She has fared remarkably well, but is getting a bit restive.”  He brought Arthad to a halt.

Elladan rode up next to Arthad, fastening the sling about his chest with a smile.  Taking the wriggling pup from Aragorn, he placed her within the sling, speaking soothingly all the while.  Scamp settled briefly, surrounded by the familiar smell of the Gamgee family caught up in the cloth, but was soon squirming restlessly, unused to being kept still for so long.

“I will ride ahead, and see that she is comfortable,” Elladan said softly.  He urged Romaryn forward until they were well ahead of Aragorn and Frodo.

“Frodo,” Aragorn said as he and the boy began riding again, “I have rarely known you to speak so little.  I was expecting to be showered with all manner of questions on this trip.  Are you missing home, or feeling ill?  You can tell me.”

“Oh no,” Frodo assured him.  “I feel wonderful, and am enjoying myself.  Truly I am.  I’m so happy you wanted me to come with you.  It’s just that...”  He bit his lip and fell silent again.

“Is it Elladan?  Does his presence make you uneasy?”

Frodo sighed.  “Whenever I begin to say something, I stop myself.  What can a hobbit talk about that would not seem trivial and unimportant to one so ancient?  I don’t want him to think me a babbling infant.”

“On some level, I believe that Elves think of all mortals as mere infants,” Aragorn said reassuringly.  “They watch our lives pass in the blink of an eye.  Elves see the world – and mortals – in ways that we will never truly comprehend.  For them, time passes in a different manner.”

“Oh.”  Frodo hadn’t thought of that.

“Is there anything else?”

“I didn’t want to make a lot of noise, and make you sorry you asked me along,” Frodo admitted.  “I imagine that Rangers ride in silence.”

“For the most part, we do,” Aragorn said.  “However, you are not a Ranger, and I do not expect you to behave as one.  We are not on patrol, Frodo; we are in the Shire, your home, and it would grieve me if you felt uncomfortable in any way.  I miss your questions, little one.”

“Do you?” Frodo asked, brightening at Aragorn’s words.  “May I truly ask you and Elladan anything I wish?  You may regret it.  I do have so very many questions.”

“I doubt it not!” Aragorn chuckled.  “Such as?”

“I know there are lots of inns along the way, but must we stay under a roof each night?  I’d so love to camp under the trees, and hear stories, and watch the stars.  Whatever is Elladan doing with Scamp?  Can you draw his bow?  It’s so enormous.  Will we go hunting, and fishing, and stalking wild things?  What if we do find treasure?  Why does Elladan ride behind us most of the time?  What does ‘Annúminas’ mean?  Who built it?  What do you think--”

“Now that’s the Frodo I know!”  Aragorn roared with laughter, and Frodo joined him, feeling relaxed and happy again.  “To answer one of your questions, Elladan is singing to Scamp -- and will do so whenever needed.  His father, Lord Elrond, understands and teaches the relationship of the Great Song with all living things, and has been able to teach a few persons how to calm and heal with Music.  Elladan can send a person – or animal – into a peaceful sleep.  Scamp will be rested, and wake when we wish.”

“But why did he ride so far ahead of us?” Frodo asked curiously.  “I’d love to hear Elvish singing.”

“You will,” Aragorn assured him.  “Not all songs bring sleep, and you will enjoy hearing his voice as he greets the stars each evening.  He rode ahead so the spell he weaves for Scamp does not ensnare anyone else.”

“You mean us?” Frodo asked, amazed.  The thought of being put to sleep on a wave of song filled him with wonder.

“Yes,” Aragorn said softly.  He refrained from mentioning that he, too, had learned this skill, and also how to resist the sweet enchantments of the river of Music.

“Here he comes,” Frodo said, as Elladan turned back to meet them.  He looked up at Aragorn mischievously. “He looks rather fetching wearing that flowered sling, doesn’t he?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Aragorn said, winking at the boy.

“What are you two grinning about?” Elladan asked, coming abreast of them.  He was happy to see the young halfling smiling once more.

“Elvish fashions,” Aragorn said lightly.

Frodo suddenly dissolved once more in laughter.  He felt lighter, as if a dark cloud had lifted from his heart, and no longer embarrassed or uncertain.  Peeking into the sling, he saw that Scamp lay curled and content within, sound asleep.  This was powerful magic indeed.

** TBC **