IX. Released

The Ring has left our lands and the Ring-bearer has survived its sojourn. Nor have I fallen from grace, though I came close to doing so, so close. We saw the company into boats which Celeborn provided and on the wedge of land that parted the flowing waters of the Anduin, we laid a small banquet. The occasion was not a bright one, for harsh winds drove thick clouds overhead, and below them, smiles were few among any of us.

I poured mead for the Company and we drank the cup of parting. Before passing the drink to Frodo, I paused to stroke his face as one might the petal of a rare flower, for a blush was on his cheek that would soon fade - forever. He contemplated the goblet he held, then tipped it up and promptly emptied its contents. His cousin, Merriadoc, noticing, came to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. Frodo looked up in surprise as the other hobbit raised his own drink and likewise swallowed it in a single draft, his eyes fixed upon his cousin.

Beyond that, Frodo ate and drank little. Throughout the gathering, I felt his gaze as he hearkened to all my words. When I returned that look, I was astonished. For I saw there a profound love - rooted in this place and opening into a timeless vision of my world before the Ring was made. So it is that Frodo let his humble attachment to his home land guide him to a broader view of the world. And I saw also courage to protect that which he loved, far more than he himself was aware of.

He was dressed for travel, with a leather belt around his outer clothing and a tidy sword at his side. Small as he was, I thought how intrepid he looked, though the weapon appeared almost unseemly on this gentle being whom I had come to know.

At last, when we returned to the boats, Celeborn and I bestowed gifts upon the travelers, reminders of Lothlorien that they might find useful on their journeys. For the Ring-bearer I regret that my gift could not have been more. The truth is, that with all the power I have gained over the course of centuries, I can no more secure our fate than he. Thus, I prepared simply a vial of light that he might hold aloft in the unimaginable darkness. He spoke no word when I presented it, but I saw in his face gratitude as if for a gift of immense value. Yet, in it he saw the extremity of the path he was to tread.

I went to him and knelt, kissing him on both cheeks. We embraced and I wished him farewell in our Elvish tongue but not in final goodbye, for I cannot believe that Frodo and I will not speak again upon this Middle-earth.

As our vessels diverged, I took up my harp and sang a lament, that it might carry to the Ring-bearer across the waves, that he might hear and know of my hope for him. It was a song of Valimar – which I forsook, and which since has forsaken me. But Frodo perhaps… perhaps he shall find what I have lost. For tremulous and absolute he was brought before me, as a shell washed in from the sea, all of its essence concentrated on one foothold in the sand – the resonance of the deeps echoing within.