Who Will You Be?

I don't own Elrond, Frodo or the events in Middle earth. They belong to JRR Tolkien and I am only borrowing them for a little while.

Frodo stared out at the sea, its changing moods a constant fascination to him. He felt guilty spending so much time sitting on this cliff top but for some reason, today he could not seem to gather the strength to move. He should be doing things should he not? Making the most of what could still be a short life? He had been given a wonderful gift to come West and it would be churlish to waste it.

And yet the energy to shift had deserted him. He had no responsibilities to force him into action here. For all of his life there had been calls upon his time but they were just the responsibilities that everyone had to deal with.

The real responsibilities had come with the Ring and he tried not to dwell upon those. Events had helped him there for after its destruction the people of Minas Tirith held feasts in his honour almost every evening. It would have been impolite to decline their invitations and Bilbo had taught him the importance of being polite . . . even if his uncle did not always follow his own instruction. So he had buried his pain beneath the role of Saviour of Middle earth and allowed himself to be distracted by fine food and new companions.

Once back in the Shire there was so much work to be done. Although his tenure as Deputy Mayor was short it was a period of great upheaval. The responsibility of putting all to rights once more laid heavy upon his already bowed shoulders but he accepted it for it allowed him to hide behind the title and ignore Frodo Baggins. When Rose and Sam took over the running of Bag End Frodo filled the time with writing down his tale, knowing that the book must be finished before he sailed. He tried hard to lose himself in words, without touching the emotions. Once finished he never read it again.

Here, in the West, there was time aplenty and no titles to hide behind so he made sure to fill his hours with activity of his own making. Activity precluded introversion and Frodo sought refuge in exploration and learning, tramping far and wide with Bilbo and their new elven companions.

A long shadow shortened beside him and Frodo looked aside, surprised to find Elrond, sitting cross legged upon the grass. Elrond did not look at him, however. He gazed out to sea.

"Good day, Master Elrond." Frodo waited expectantly but the silence stretched on to the horizon.

"Good day, Frodo."

There was another silence that Frodo tried to fill with, "It's a lovely day, is it not?"

Elrond's gaze did not move. "Yes."

After another long pause Frodo tried again. "Do you think those clouds will bring rain?" He pointed to their left where white clouds were beginning to gather on the horizon.

Elrond did not follow his pointing finger, only replying, "Perhaps."

The elven lord seemed disinclined to talk. After fidgeting for a few more minutes Frodo was at a loss and wondered if perhaps he had intruded upon a place special to Elrond so he smiled, making to rise. "Well, I'd better see if Bilbo needs any help."

"He does not. Celebrian is with him." Elrond laid a gentle restraining hand upon Frodo's arm. "Sit with me a moment longer."

Frodo waited politely but when Elrond did not continue he cleared his throat. "Did you wish to speak to me about something?" One thing Frodo had learned since his arrival was that some elves could be as circumspect as Ents when coming to the point, and needed to be prodded along.

Elrond continued to stare out to sea. "How is your healing progressing, do you think?"

Frodo blinked. It seemed Elrond was not feeling particularly entish today after all. "I am feeling much more rested," he replied with an achingly bright smile. He suspected that Elrond was talking of something else and tried to head him off. "My shoulder hardly hurts at all now."

"And your anniversary illnesses?" The question landed with a loud splash.

Frodo should have known better than to even try heading off Elrond. He dropped the smile. "You know about them?" He had spoken to no-one of them and, as far as he was aware, only Bilbo had been witness to his lapses into despair in October and March.

Elrond's voice was quiet and contained no judgement. "I know. I would have spoken to you before but I hoped that you would find your path alone. Yet you have ensured that you are rarely alone, have you not?"

Frodo glanced aside but Elrond still seemed to be mesmerised by the waves as they crept persistently up the beach. "I don't care to be too long alone with my thoughts," he replied flatly.

"There is more to your healing than the knitting of bone and sinew. In your heart you know this, or you would not be here."

Frodo watched gentle waves nibble at the strand. "I do, I think. But I'm not sure how to proceed."

Elrond smiled. "Listening is often a good place to begin."

"To you?" Frodo asked in some confusion.

Elrond turned to place a warm hand over Frodo's heart. "To yourself. You have been hiding from yourself. You will never find the healing you seek until you confront the pain you have learned to lock away behind the wall of deeds."

"Hiding?" Frodo found himself blinking back a tear. "I am not sure that I dare."

Below them the tide was moving in relentlessly now. "What holds you back?"

"I . . . I am not certain I will survive if I lower the walls," Frodo confessed bleakly.

"Is survival worth the price you pay?" Elrond asked, their eyes meeting at last.

"I don't know," Frodo replied weakly.

"Frodo, son of Drogo, you are one of the strongest people it has ever been my honour to know." Elrond stood, pausing to look down at him. "Begin with this thought . . . If all that we have been determines all that we will become. Is it not therefore wise to fully understand who we have been and who we are now, before taking the next step upon the path to that person we wish to become?"

Elrond did not wait for a reply and Frodo watched his retreating back for several minutes before turning back to the sea. A wavelet crept in to gently roll the pebbles and sand, before retreating to be followed by another and then another.

When Frodo returned to their shared cottage some hours later Bilbo could see that his nephew had been crying but the lad seemed a little lighter in spirit at last.