HOLDING BACK THE FLOOD

Chapter 16: Contemplations

“Of course, of course! Absurdly simple, like most riddles when you see the answer.”  ‘A Journey in the Dark’, The Fellowship of the Ring

After leaving Frodo, Gandalf finally went to seek his own rest.  He had never before focused so much energy through Narya within such a short period of time, and with such delicate precision.  Feeling drained, he retired to the room always kept in readiness for his infrequent visits to Imladris, lay upon the bed, and set his cares aside.  Taking deep breaths of the buoyant, restorative air of the valley, he fell into a dreamless slumber and did not awaken until the Sun was low in the west.  Even before he opened his eyes, he sensed that Elrond had also awakened.

By the bedside had been set a bottle of wine, a bowl of autumn fruits, a platter containing cheese and a knife, and a plateful of the crisp, sweet cakes for which the bakers of the House were renowned.  He sampled all of them, then walked about the House, asking questions of those he met and receiving answers which pleased him.  Finally, he sought out Elrond, and found him seated on the same couch on which he had lain while unconscious.  The Elf-lord was now dressed in comfortable nightclothes -- a white tunic and loose trousers -- and held a steaming cup of tea.

Gandalf walked to the railing and leaned against it, breathing in the perfume of flowers that bloomed each evening.

“Are you well, my friend?” he asked quietly.

“I am weary,” Elrond admitted.

“You travelled far.  We feared for you.”

Elrond shook his head.  “Not as far as you might think,” he said, but did not explain.   He was silent for a time, and Gandalf sensed his fatigue.  “I understand that Aragorn and my daughter worked in concert to reach my wandering fëa.”

“They did indeed.  You should be most proud.”

“I am, and I will tell them so.  What is happening about the House?”

“Arwen spent much of the day resting,” Gandalf said, knowing that Elrond's first concern would be for his daughter's welfare.  “Lindir took it upon himself to watch over her sleep.”

“That is good.”  Elrond visibly relaxed, and resumed taking small sips of the restorative tea.  “Before I shooed him from my side, Erestor told me about Frodo's injury; my trust in Aragorn was not misplaced.  How do they fare?”

“Frodo shows his resiliency once more, and is recovering rapidly.”  Gandalf smiled.  “As for Aragorn, many have observed, with some amusement, that he has been bearing Frodo back and forth on various errands.  I fear that his otherwise sterling education may have been lacking when it comes to hobbit games and wiles.”

“I was certainly remiss regarding teaching him that obscure branch of knowledge, and learning it myself,” Elrond chuckled softly.  “Go on.”

“Sam and Legolas were injured, but Eriniel is confident they will both make a full recovery.  Gimli was not hurt, and has earned the respect even of those who may have previously held Dwarves in low regard.”  Gandalf looked thoughtful.  “Glorfindel reports that Legolas and Gimli have formed a strong bond.  I did not anticipate this, but am not surprised. It is something to consider when you choose Frodo’s companions.”

“As soon as I regain my full strength, I will consult with them.” Elrond said.  “And how do you fare?  I was aware of many transfers of energy from Narya to Vilya.  I appreciate the risk, and am grateful.”

“There was indeed risk,” Gandalf agreed, “but losing you would have been of much greater consequence than the slim chance that the Enemy’s servant might sense the location or identity of one of the Bearers.”  He sighed.  “It is consequence enough that they know of Frodo’s burden, and that he entered their world, if only briefly.”

“Frodo believed this to be a sanctuary, and so it should have been,” Elrond murmured.  “I feel shame that he was attacked within the borders of Imladris.  Such a thing has never happened before.”

“Let your shame fall away,” Gandalf said gently.  “Your willingness to spend yourself selflessly, and without hesitation, is worthy of praise.”  He grew thoughtful.  “I was delayed by Saruman, and then pursued by Nazgûl when I needed to be at Frodo's side; Aragorn blames himself that Frodo was injured while under his guardianship; and Sam blames himself for not shielding his master from harm in the cave, although he could not possibly have done so.”  He shook his head.  “Frodo’s destiny is his own, Elrond.  Perhaps a fellowship of companions will serve him; perhaps not.  We can only do what we can, with what we have.  Our choices are limited, and our powers not infinite.”

Elrond nodded.  “The House is quiet,” he said.

“The Hall of Fire misses its lord,” Gandalf replied.  “There will be feasting and merriment aplenty when you – and the others – are fully well.”

“We must indeed plan a feast,” Elrond agreed.  “There are many to be honored and thanked, and tales to be exchanged among...”  He suddenly sensed a change in the wizard’s mood.  “Speak, my friend.”

Gandalf took a deep breath, and turned to face him.  “Many times I pondered who would be chosen as Ring-bearer had Frodo not survived his wounding; today I was confronted with what I should do had your fëa not found the strength to return.”  He gazed somberly at the Elf-lord.  “What of Vilya, should its master be lost?”

“What of Narya?” Elrond countered.  “Much lies ahead of us, and you will be accompanying Frodo south.  In this form, you, too, are vulnerable to attack and weakness.”  He looked up at the wizard curiously.  “What had you decided to do with Vilya?”

“The lord of Imladris returned to us, and the upcoming feast will celebrate that, as well,” Gandalf replied calmly.  “No decision needed to be made.”

Elrond said nothing, but wondered if this was the whole truth.  And after Gandalf left him, he sat for a long while, gazing up at the stars and pondering what it meant to be a ring-bearer.

*~*~*~*~*

It was lovely to be clean again, but Frodo regretfully acknowledged that he couldn’t stay in the bathing tub all night... not that he was any deeper than the top step.  And not that this was exactly a ‘tub’, he mused, at least not the kind with which hobbits were most familiar.  The Last Homely House included large and small bathing rooms, each of which contained pools carved of smooth marble brought from far away.  Merry had told him that the clear waters had grown quite cold while Lord Elrond was keeping the cave from flooding.  The pools were now delightfully warm again, and Frodo pondered this while the attendants assisted him.  He regretted needing their help, but had quickly discovered that taking a proper bath while keeping his bandage dry was beyond his abilities.  At last the attendants, sensing his desire to be alone for a time, helped him to an ornate bench where a stack of towels awaited his use, bowed and left.

It was obvious that Elves had powers beyond anything about which Bilbo had hinted in his stories.  Frodo still remembered the feeling of Glorfindel’s hand upon his wound, and how Arwen’s hand had also seemed to channel warmth to a lesser degree.  Lord Elrond had commanded the River to flood, then prevented another flood from drowning Sam, Gimli, and Legolas.  Frodo smiled to himself about another important example of Elvish 'magic' -- they were certainly skilled bakers.  He patted his middle and reminisced for a moment about the tender roast of beef and perfectly-seasoned mushroom salad that had been the centerpiece of that evening's supper served to him and Sam.  And the batter pudding was so exceptional, he wondered if the recipe was one of Bilbo’s own...

Thinking about Sam reminded Frodo that he needed to get back to his friend.  He put on a clean nightshirt, and a dressing gown borrowed from Bilbo, then rang the small silver bell that had been left with him.  After a short time, Aragorn stepped through the doorway.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Frodo said.  “That was wonderful.”  He looked up at the Ranger, suddenly feeling a twinge of guilt.  Aragorn surely had his own duties here in Rivendell, and many things which required his attention.  “I’m sorry to take up so much of your time.  But you did agree, and you didn’t guess that last one.”

“Rangers keep their word,” Aragorn said solemnly.

“I won’t ask anything more of you, I promise,” Frodo said.  “I can get about tomorrow using the walking stick Bilbo brought, if that’s all right, and Lindir or Eriniel can help me take care of Sam.”

“That sounds quite acceptable,” Aragorn said, failing to hide a smile.

“Hmmph.  You can go ahead and laugh,” Frodo said, giving his hair one more thorough rubbing with a towel, “but it’s very satisfying to make sure Sam has a chance to rest and eat.  He neglects himself dreadfully.”

“I do not laugh at friendship, Frodo,” Aragorn said gently.  “There is much healing in that alone... for both of you.”  He knelt to inspect the bandage, to ensure that it was not wet, slipped the bell into his tunic pocket, then lifted Frodo and carried him back to his room.   When they entered, Sam was awake, and looking up at Frodo with grave concern.

“You look better, Sam,” Aragorn said, settling Frodo next to him.

“I feel better, Strider,” Sam assured him, not taking his eyes off his master.  “Those bathing pools are wonderful things, aren’t they, sir?” he asked wistfully.

“Tomorrow,” Aragorn promised him.  “Give it one more day.  Your bruises will be less tender, and the heat not as dizzying.”

“All right,” Sam agreed reluctantly.

“I will bid you good night,” Aragorn said.  He lit several candles, filling the darkening room with a soft glow, then set the bell on the table.  “Frodo, please use this if you or Sam need anything; someone will respond quickly.”  He winked at the hobbit.  “You may not see me again until tomorrow, as I have now paid my debt from our game.”  He left them alone.

“You seem quite yourself again, Sam,” Frodo said softly.  “You remember now, don’t you?”

“Most of it,” Sam whispered, his heart suddenly cold with dread.  “Mr. Frodo, how badly were you hurt?  How did one of those awful creatures find you here?”

“As for the second question, I’m not sure,” Frodo sighed.  “Gandalf might know, but he hasn’t said much about it.  As for the first…” He drew up his nightshirt a bit, and Sam inspected the bandage carefully.  “The sliver of rock is gone, Sam.  My leg throbs a bit, but I suspect your head hurts worse.  If you can bear it, I can.”

“I can bear anything but…” Sam sighed.  “It was hard not knowing what happened to you.  Awful hard.”

“It was hard for me, as well,” Frodo said.  “When Merry and I saw that mountain of rock nearly where you and Legolas had just been standing…”

“I can’t remember that part, but... Mr. Legolas saved my life,” Sam said wonderingly.  “Mr. Gimli said he threw himself on top of me, and was hit by all the worst of the rocks that were falling.”

“And Merry pulled me back so that the splinter hit my leg, and not… anywhere else.  Had either of us been alone, things might have gone much worse.”  Frodo shuddered for a moment, then pushed the thought aside.  “How was your nap?  You’ve been more asleep than awake today!”

“Don’t I know it!” Sam chuckled.  “I’ve been sleeping so much, I would’ve completely lost track of the time except for meals.  Not that it was easy to keep track of it before all this happened.”

“Time does seem to act a bit odd in Rivendell,” Frodo agreed.  “Bilbo was right.  It’s a dangerous business, going out of your door.”

“Dangerous or not, Mr. Frodo, you’ll not be facing it without your Sam.”

“I know,” Frodo said quietly, and took Sam's hand.

“I really do feel so much better,” Sam said, puzzled.  “Mr. Gimli said I didn’t even know him, at first.”

“I suspect he and Legolas were both frightened for you.”

“I want to see Mr. Legolas, and thank him proper.”

“Tomorrow, we’ll ask if we may visit him,” Frodo said.  “With luck, he’s recovering as quickly as you are.  There is definitely something special about this valley.”  He rubbed his left shoulder absently.

“Are you in pain, sir?”

“No, dear Sam,” Frodo said gently.  “I’ve just been thinking... well, about Rivendell itself.”

“It’s a fair place, and no mistake.”

“Perhaps it’s more than that,” Frodo murmured.  “You’re recovering so quickly... and last month when I nearly died...”

“Mr. Frodo--”

“...the day after I awoke, it all seemed almost like a bad dream...”

“Sir!” Sam said urgently. “I take it Strider didn't figure out that last one?”

Frodo laughed, instantly distracted from his troubling thoughts.

“Not yet!  But he will.”

*~*~*~*~*

When Aragorn left the House, he made his way to a small, secluded bridge.  Arwen stood upon it, alone in the moonlight, and for a moment he stood among the trees, drinking in the sight.  She smiled and turned to him.

“Estel... I felt you approach.”

“And I felt you awaiting me,” Aragorn responded, coming to her side.  “Did you sleep well?”

Arwen nodded, then changed the subject -- not wishing, as yet, to discuss that day's events.

“I have not been advised as to the details of the word game you have been playing with the Ring-bearer,” she said lightly, “but I understand you fared rather poorly.”

“I upheld the Dúnedain honor quite well, for the most part!” Aragorn declared.  “However, Frodo is quite relentless, and I lost as many rounds as I won.  The last riddle...”

“Hard as diamond, soft as spring,
Precious as a thousand rings.
Far to go, yet you are home,
Always here where ’ere you roam.”

Arwen laughed merrily.  “'Tis one of Bilbo's rhymes!” she told him.  “The answer is right in front of you, but it is no wonder you have not guessed it; Frodo left out the final lines.”

“Why, that rascal!” Aragorn declared.  “What are they?”

“Sworn to death, sworn to life,
Lucky he who takes this wife.”

“Can you not guess?” Arwen asked, her eyes sparkling.

“You!” Aragorn exclaimed.

“Yes,” Arwen blushed.  “Dear Bilbo has written verses for both of us, it seems.”

“It is possible that Frodo knew only the lines he told me,” Aragorn said thoughtfully.  “Bilbo keeps many secrets, and perhaps our promise to one another is one of them.”

“Perhaps.”  Arwen gazed into his eyes, thinking now about the bond they shared, and how it had been put to the test -- and strengthened -- in helping save her father’s life.  She put her hand in his, her eyes filled with love.

“Whenever you have need of me, Estel, wherever you are... reach out in thought, and I will be there.”

Aragorn pressed her hand to his heart.  “And here,” he whispered, then drew her into his arms. 

** TBC **