A/N: Here is the third chapter to The Fellowship. It is short, but merely a step before the council meeting between the races of Middle Earth.

Enjoy and thank you for continued interest in this story!

Onyx Feloric

Frodo woke into a warm bed, quite unsure as to where he was. He blinked as he took in his surroundings. It couldn't be his home at Bag End. The ceiling was made of stone and elegant carvings decorated the beams. Despite the strangeness of the place, he couldn't help but be at ease. A waterfall sounded through the room and sunlight filtered onto the walls with the melody of chirping birds. It was easy to try and slip back into sleep.

"Ah, young Frodo. You are finally awake."

The small hobbit jumped, grimacing and gripping his chest. He looked over and spotted a familiar face. "Gandalf?"

The grey wizard smiled, pipe in hand. "Yes, Frodo. You had us all worried for the last few days."

Frodo frowned, but froze. "The others! Are they okay?"

Gandalf nodded serenely. "Yes, everyone is safe. No need to trouble your mind. The Riders were only after you."

For a long moment, the hobbit was silent, staring at the bed sheets. With some courage, he spoke, looking toward his friend. "Why were you not at the Prancing Pony, Gandalf?"

Gandalf's countenance darkened. "I was delayed far longer than I had intended, my dear Frodo." His face brightened. "No need to worry as of yet. For now, simply think on your recovery."

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam hurled into the room, followed quickly by Merry and Pippin.

Gandalf looked back, catching sight of the dark elf in the shadows. He stood, content to let the young hobbit be in the company of his companions. He approached, turning and watching the reunion by her side. "Lady Alehandrys, what brings you to this wing of the Homely House?"

She nodded slightly to the laughing hobbits. "They wished to see him." Alehandrys glanced at the Istari at her side. "Perhaps we could speak of other matters free from hobbit ears."

Gandalf nodded, returning to the bed. "Do not stay long, my dear hobbits. Frodo may be free from the danger he was in, but sleep will do more than restore energy." With the assurance that they would leave when the injured hobbit first yawned, and the aid of an amused elf, the two Istari left the healing house.

They walked along the terraces, the sound of elvish singing and playing mixing flawlessly with the cadence of the gentle waterfall. The day was warm and the air soft. A light breeze carried the soft sent of native flowers to their noses. To Gandalf, the peace the place offered was a balm to his soul.

The two passed several elves, each seemingly at ease and perfectly placed in the setting. He looked at the elf next to him. Her dark hair and pale skin, paired with her dark clothing made her stand out of place. While she was graceful and ethereal in her beauty, she was not a part of the lightness of the elves. The Lady, he imagined, would be more at ease amongst the shadows.

They stopped in the shade of a large willow tree, well away from other elves and wayward hobbits. Gandalf sat down on the stone bend, refilling his pipe and lighting it with a flare from his staff. After a few inhales, he spoke, his voice grave with the situation. "I fear this union between Saruman and Sauron."

"As you should, Grey One. Saruman is not head of your Order for no reason." The words were softly spoken, but firm in knowledge. "He has been swayed. There will be no reconciliation from him. The Dark Lord's whispers have poisoned him beyond our aid."

Gandalf knew it was true. Saruman had tried to sway even him; whispered sweet promises. It had been Frodo's blue eyes, however, that had stayed him. His desperate escape had been the definitive moment. There was no going back to Saruman in peace. "He will hinder us."

The lady elf gave an inelegant snort. "Your words could not have been more obvious, Mithrandir." Alehandrys leaned her arms against the bench, tilting her head up, looking into the green leaves of the tree.

Gandalf nodded, sighing. "His aid would have given us more hope than what we shall have. No matter what decision the council makes regarding the Ring, hope will be sparse."

"What can you truly expect, Mithrandir?" She glanced at him out the corner of her hazel eyes, before settling her eyes toward the softly falling waterfall. "Hope would have been spare no matter Saruman's betrayal. The Ring's power will be trying enough. No magic can contain it. You know this, Gandalf."

"Indeed and I fear it will be our undoing."

The twittering of the birds filled the silence between them. Her voice was soothing. "Worry now will not aid you, Mithrandir. Wait for the council. The fate of Middle Earth does not rest on your shoulders alone. Take what small time you have to recollect your strength." She stood, turning toward the terraces. "I assure you it will be needed."