HOME COMFORTS
"Now Mr Frodo, You just climb in here."
Frodo complied willingly, sinking into the blessed relief of soft feather mattress and pillows. Sam tucked a wrapped hot water bottle close at his left side then drew up the eiderdown and covers. Within moments his master was cocooned in warmth.
"Here's your warm milk Mr Frodo. I've added some honey." Rosie smiled gently, placing the cup in his hand.
Frodo sighed. The Houses of Healing had been nice. Elrond's house had been better. But there was nothing like the comfort of your own bed, as only another hobbit would understand.
END
TUMBLED
While the gangplank was stowed and sails unfurled Frodo had time to consider the shoreline beyond the harbour wall.
There, white cliffs reared against a pale autumn sky, feet strewn with a wrack of cobbles. Great chunks of those strong, seemingly permanent cliffs had been shorn away. Detached, they were tumbled mercilessly between the fates of land and sea; worn down to boulders then cobbles, pebbles and finally sand, to be borne away on the tide and wash up on some distant shore.
Sails billowed and snapped. Frodo felt the boat glide quietly on ebbing tide toward the waiting sunset.
END
Sand-castles
From this distance Frodo and Bilbo could be taken for children, sitting on the golden sand with faces upturned to the sun. Elrond recalled when he and Elros had brought bucket and spade to such a beach, building sand-castles until called home to supper.
The periain seemed to gain as much enjoyment as Elrond and his brother ever had, from what was to them a strange new environment. Perhaps he should introduce them to the pastime of castle building.
Grinning, he kicked off his shoes and wiggled his toes. Perhaps he should also re-introduce himself to the pastime.
END
END
