Rivendell.. It is a place of prosper, and beauty. The wondrous palace of the Elves is a fascinating place to be, like it should, but I am not happy here.

We arrived yesterday, with a tall, blond-haired elf that called himself Glorfindel. I think he is a bit strange, but, elves, as I have been told, are mysterious and beautiful to behold.

I sit in a large room, beside a finely made bed. I would normally have been staring around in awe of the spectacle of this Elven room, but I was too worried for the person in the bed to notice.

Frodo was still and quiet, his only movement was the rising and falling of his chest. He was alive, and for that I was superbly grateful, but I wouldn't be entirely happy until he was up and about. Elrond has told me that Frodo might not have live, had he not have been got here, to him. I almost cried, tearfully asking if he was going to be fine now that he was here. I received only one of those 'yes and no' answers from the raven- haired elf, which only aggravated me more.

So here I now sit, alone by his bedside, watching the one I held so dear to my heart. I love him deeply, so deeply it was no longer a brotherly love, it was more. But Frodo wouldn't find out, I would make sure of this.

But for now, I'm alone, and Frodo won't know.

So I lean over, and kiss him gently on the forehead, muttering the three words I had wanted to say for what seemed forever.

"I love you.'