Disclaimer is the same as Chapter One.
Author's Note: I had to split up my chapter two because it was getting much too long. I
hope you'll forgive me. Please let me know what you think.
On the Beach, Chapter Two: Shame
An early morning sun shone upon the lane as Frodo approached the door to his home. As
his hand reached for the handle he paused. He heard voices beyond his door, the hushed
whispers of those who lay in wait.
He tensed as he slowly opened the door. They would not find him unsuspecting. The
voices stopped abruptly as each waited for the other to do what they expected.
Frodo opened the door too slowly for his intruder's patience. Through the small opening
he had already made, a small face peered out at him. This face was followed by a second
and then a third.
The sun streamed in and illuminated three small hobbit children looking out at him. For
a moment Frodo thought that he had somehow come to the wrong house.
The children saw his uncertainty and the eldest ventured to speak. "Are you home,
Papa?" she asked.
He smiled. "Yes, I am home," he heard himself speak.
The door swung open wide and through it came the three children. They flung
themselves into his arms and buried him in embraces that knocked him to the ground.
They laughed and all began speaking at once of their delight. He hugged them all and
gave them each a kiss in turn. At this moment his heart had filled with a happiness that if
not completely foreign to him it may have been only a glimmer of a distant memory.
Frodo opened his eyes. The morning sun broke through the window to light his room
with a golden hue. The happiness he had experienced only a moment before, receded to
the corners of his mind. He had only been dreaming. His thoughts reached out
desperately to grasp every detail to commit it all to permanence. It all slipped away so
quickly, distilled to only three simple memories.
There were children. He held them closely. He was happy. Those thoughts were enough
to carry him through his morning with the traces of a smile lingering at the corners of his
mouth.
These traces caught the eye of his midday visitor. Gandalf sat in the shade of a tree as his
host brought him a cup of tea. This had become a weekly ritual in a place where no one
was supposed to keep time. He watched his younger friend closely, knowing that his
thoughts pulled his attention elsewhere. Great experience had taught him that with
patience his questions could be answered before he even posed them.
This occasion proved to be no different. As Frodo sat with his own tea he roused himself
to introduce the subject of his thoughts. "Is it possible to dream in the Blessed Realm,
Gandalf?"
The wizened wizard stared hard at a stone several feet away from him as if that rock
contained all the secrets of the universe. "I believe anything is possible here. You still
cling to many of the practices of your mortal life. You still eat and drink," he said, lifting
his cup as an example. He turned his attention to his companion with warm concern.
"You still sleep and in your sleep if not also in your waking hours, you still yearn. That
is all you need to dream. You don't have to, but you, Frodo Baggins have made it
possible to dream in the Blessed Realm. What did you dream about?"
Frodo smiled at the memory and the sound of his voice as he spoke of it aloud.
Somehow telling someone made it more real. "Children. Three smiling, laughing
children." His voice softened as he ventured further into the memory. His eyes showed
his distance. "They called me 'Papa'. I can almost remember the feeling of their little
arms around me." He looked at Gandalf now with a sudden realization. "Do you think
that I could have been seeing Sam's life?"
Gandalf's bushy brow furrowed but he still held his smile. "You wonder if he is using
your gift to him wisely." He made his remark as a statement, not as a question. Frodo
left all that he had and all that he could have had to his beloved Sam. The old wizard
often wondered what life had been denied to poor Frodo. He saw what its lack had done
to him.
Frodo would not give in to jealousy. In many ways he felt that his life was better off
lived by Sam. The words he spoke were true. "I know he is. I know he would. I don't
need the reassurance, but it warms my heart to think that I could see it."
Gandalf clapped his hand around Frodo's shoulder. "Anything is possible, dear friend.
Perhaps one day you will know for a certainty."
Frodo smiled at his response but he began to think of other concerns. "Gandalf, is it
common for children to dwell in the Blessed Realm?" he asked.
For a moment, Gandalf seemed startled by the question. He had to consider his answer
before giving it. "This place is for those whose lives have reached an ending. A child's
life should have its own bliss without it being provided for them. Why do you pose the
question?"
"I have met a child, an elf girl," Frodo answered. "Several days ago she came upon me
on the beach and since then not a day goes by that I do not meet her there."
The wizard began to laugh, squeezing his friend's shoulder and causing him to look up at
him quizzically. "You have made a friend then," he remarked. "No matter through what
lengths you have gone to remain alone, she has snuck by and found a way to your heart."
Frodo saw more behind Gandalf's words. "Do you know her?"
He nodded. "Enaiowen," he said, "Yes, I know of her."
Frodo turned his full attention to the wizard, laying his cup in the grass beside him. So
many questions had formed in his mind since he met the girl but he had no way of finding
the answers. He wanted to help her but he did not want to pry. "Tell me of her what you
know. There is a great sadness about her. She has yet to confide it to me."
The smile all but vanished from Gandalf's face. He knew the answer to his friend's
question. The graveness of it darkened his eyes. He shook his head sadly. "Her tale is
not for me to tell. There is much of it that she does not know herself." Seeing Frodo's
sudden sympathetic reaction, he lightened his tone and his smile returned. "Do not
concern yourself with discovering her secrets so quickly. I have a feeling that the one
who knows her best will soon seek you out."
The words reached Frodo's ears like a warning. "Should I be worried?" he asked.
Gandalf laughed again. "Not at all, dear Frodo. Not at all."
Later that afternoon, Frodo discovered Enaiowen hunched over in the sand. Her fists
balled up into her face and her body shook with uncontrollable sobs. He watched her in
silence, not wanting to intrude on private tears. He had never seen an elf cry and to
watch her now filled him with great pity. Elves were not meant to weep as she did. Not
in the Undying Lands. Not anywhere. As a child still she should be laughing and
playing. If she came upon any distress she should find solace in the comforting arms of
her mother, not spilling her tears alone on the sand.
Frodo could hold himself still no longer. He had allowed the tragedy of the scene to
continue too long. He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. The bones in her
shoulder seemed surprisingly sharp and shockingly small. She cringed at his touch and
looked up at him with angry red eyes.
She was ashamed, not because he saw her crying but because she wanted him to find her
in this miserable state. Too long in her life she had no one to turn to and now she had
selfishly pushed Frodo into the place of friend. She surprised herself with the greatness
of her wont. She fitfully wiped her eyes with her palms and turned away from his
sympathetic and inquiring face. She felt it was far more just that she force the tears away
than to force him to comfort her. "I'm sorry. I was being foolish," she muttered through
clenched teeth. She twisted her shoulder slightly to escape his grasp but found she could
not muster enough will to bring herself to her feet. She merely sat in the sand wishing
she had behaved differently.
Frodo crouched down in front of her. She would not meet his eyes. "It's not foolish.
Tears are the most honest expression I know. They come from emotions so profound that
they must be shared," he said gently.
When she finally looked up at him, he saw that with effort she kept the tears from
returning. "But I shouldn't make you share them."
Her voice trailed off. From the wide-eyed look of surprise on her face and the soft
crunch of sand behind him, Frodo knew they weren't alone. A tall, dark-haired elf,
Guillyn, sneered down his aquiline nose at them.
Instinctively Enaiowen sought Frodo's hand.
"Ah, there is my errant student," Guillyn said with a velvety voice. "Enaiowen, I am sure
you have troubled Mr. Baggins enough. Come with me."
The last three words carried a chill with them. Frodo could feel Enaiowen tremble as she
attempted to comply. He feared what would happen if she left with this elf. He held
tightly to her hand and tugged it gently to reassure her. "She is no trouble, Sir," he
offered innocently.
The dark elf's lips tightened with disapproval. "Indeed. I'm sure she would like to think
she is a treasure," he spat at her with contempt. "Tell him what you really are."
Enaiowen snapped her hand away from Frodo. She pulled her arms about her and
cowered before them. Her eyes clouded with shameful tears. Whoever this elf was he
practiced control over her with fear.
Frodo heard his voice rise in defense of the girl. "What are you saying? She is a child!"
Guillyn ignored him. His eyes focused on the small, trembling child as if she were a
serpent hiding in the sand. "Tell him," he repeated in a deadly whisper.
Her words came out haltingly but Frodo could tell that she had spoken them before. "I
am a menace," she said dully, "and I will grow to be the downfall of my people."
Frodo froze with horror. The words meant nothing to him but the notion that she had
been made to practice their recitation filled him with dread.
Her tormentor smiled with satisfaction. "I sense a note of defiance," he said as he
approached her vulnerable form. He towered over her like a specter, a vision of terror
that would pluck her from the ground and crush her beneath his menacing gaze. "We
must work on your obedience."
Frodo threw himself between them, determined to protect her. "I do not know who you
are, Sir, but that is no manner to speak to a child."
"A child?" Guillyn replied. "Is that what she would have you believe?" The farce of
this hobbit, less than half his size standing in opposition to him had not been lost on him,
but he paused. The Ringbearer required respect. Although he never asked for it himself,
his past deeds warranted it from all the elves. From all peoples. Guillyn told himself that
the hobbit simply misunderstood the gravity of the situation. Luckily for him, he was
well-equipped to explain it. "This child killed her own mother while she was still in her
womb. Only a creature of evil could do something that vile. She must know what she is
and her spirit must be diminished before the darkness in her grows."
The mystery around Enaiowen began to reveal itself. Frodo saw the reason for her
despair. It stood in front of him. He stood his ground between them. Nothing could
convince him that this child was all he claimed her to be. Evil is not born. It is taught.
For all his claims that his methods would destroy her evil, this dark elf had done nothing
but nurture it. She needed to know that there was another way. "You use heavy words,
Sir, and you speak of times that have not come to pass," he said, his voice holding an
edge of warning. "I may not have the grasp of the situation as you do but while I am
here, you shall not harm her, with your words or any other weapon you devise."
Guillyn snorted in disgust, but he knew that he could not oppose the Ringbearer. He
acquiesced unwillingly. "I can see you are resolved in her defense, for now. I shall take
my leave." He turned to leave but paused to regard the girl behind the hobbit.
"Enaiowen, your father shall hear of this."
Frodo watched him leave. He was not satisfied that he was gone until he vanished
completely from sight and hearing. Once he was sure that they were alone he stood
before the stricken girl. She had buried her face in her hands but made no sound. She
had shut out the world hoping that she had hidden herself enough to become invisible.
"Enaiowen," he called to her gently. "You do not have to fear. He has left."
From the shelter of her arms, her voice came out small and strained. "I do not fear him.
It is what you must think of me that I fear."
Frodo pulled her face out from her arms. He held her chin to direct her gaze to his face
alone. "Look at me," he told her. She looked to him. Her tears had made her eyes an
impossible shade of blue. "Enaiowen, are you evil?"
She whimpered suddenly as if caught in a trap. "He says I am."
"And who is he to say that?" he asked.
"He is my teacher, appointed by my father to instruct me." There was the wound so raw
and tender. That horrible dark elf was someone she was supposed to trust. Her father
had trusted her in his care. How deeply did the wound reach?
"Does that make him right?" Frodo asked.
Enaiowen had begun to shake her head but she averted her attention again to behind her
friend. She did not shake but her eyes grew wide. "Father," she spoke part in greeting,
part in warning.
Frodo turned to see a golden-haired elf with a familiar face, one he'd not seen in many
years.
Glorfindel revealed no expression as he called to his child. "Enaiowen, the hour is not
yet late, but I wish to have a word with Mr. Baggins."
TBC
As I indicated in the beginning this was supposed to include Glorfindel's conversation
with Frodo. Since this is already twice as long as I intended it to be that portion will have
to wait until next time. You will see how she came to the Blessed Realm and what her
father fears most. Also, Frodo will get his new job but I bet you can probably guess what
it is. Please review to help me make this the best it can be.
Author's Note: I had to split up my chapter two because it was getting much too long. I
hope you'll forgive me. Please let me know what you think.
On the Beach, Chapter Two: Shame
An early morning sun shone upon the lane as Frodo approached the door to his home. As
his hand reached for the handle he paused. He heard voices beyond his door, the hushed
whispers of those who lay in wait.
He tensed as he slowly opened the door. They would not find him unsuspecting. The
voices stopped abruptly as each waited for the other to do what they expected.
Frodo opened the door too slowly for his intruder's patience. Through the small opening
he had already made, a small face peered out at him. This face was followed by a second
and then a third.
The sun streamed in and illuminated three small hobbit children looking out at him. For
a moment Frodo thought that he had somehow come to the wrong house.
The children saw his uncertainty and the eldest ventured to speak. "Are you home,
Papa?" she asked.
He smiled. "Yes, I am home," he heard himself speak.
The door swung open wide and through it came the three children. They flung
themselves into his arms and buried him in embraces that knocked him to the ground.
They laughed and all began speaking at once of their delight. He hugged them all and
gave them each a kiss in turn. At this moment his heart had filled with a happiness that if
not completely foreign to him it may have been only a glimmer of a distant memory.
Frodo opened his eyes. The morning sun broke through the window to light his room
with a golden hue. The happiness he had experienced only a moment before, receded to
the corners of his mind. He had only been dreaming. His thoughts reached out
desperately to grasp every detail to commit it all to permanence. It all slipped away so
quickly, distilled to only three simple memories.
There were children. He held them closely. He was happy. Those thoughts were enough
to carry him through his morning with the traces of a smile lingering at the corners of his
mouth.
These traces caught the eye of his midday visitor. Gandalf sat in the shade of a tree as his
host brought him a cup of tea. This had become a weekly ritual in a place where no one
was supposed to keep time. He watched his younger friend closely, knowing that his
thoughts pulled his attention elsewhere. Great experience had taught him that with
patience his questions could be answered before he even posed them.
This occasion proved to be no different. As Frodo sat with his own tea he roused himself
to introduce the subject of his thoughts. "Is it possible to dream in the Blessed Realm,
Gandalf?"
The wizened wizard stared hard at a stone several feet away from him as if that rock
contained all the secrets of the universe. "I believe anything is possible here. You still
cling to many of the practices of your mortal life. You still eat and drink," he said, lifting
his cup as an example. He turned his attention to his companion with warm concern.
"You still sleep and in your sleep if not also in your waking hours, you still yearn. That
is all you need to dream. You don't have to, but you, Frodo Baggins have made it
possible to dream in the Blessed Realm. What did you dream about?"
Frodo smiled at the memory and the sound of his voice as he spoke of it aloud.
Somehow telling someone made it more real. "Children. Three smiling, laughing
children." His voice softened as he ventured further into the memory. His eyes showed
his distance. "They called me 'Papa'. I can almost remember the feeling of their little
arms around me." He looked at Gandalf now with a sudden realization. "Do you think
that I could have been seeing Sam's life?"
Gandalf's bushy brow furrowed but he still held his smile. "You wonder if he is using
your gift to him wisely." He made his remark as a statement, not as a question. Frodo
left all that he had and all that he could have had to his beloved Sam. The old wizard
often wondered what life had been denied to poor Frodo. He saw what its lack had done
to him.
Frodo would not give in to jealousy. In many ways he felt that his life was better off
lived by Sam. The words he spoke were true. "I know he is. I know he would. I don't
need the reassurance, but it warms my heart to think that I could see it."
Gandalf clapped his hand around Frodo's shoulder. "Anything is possible, dear friend.
Perhaps one day you will know for a certainty."
Frodo smiled at his response but he began to think of other concerns. "Gandalf, is it
common for children to dwell in the Blessed Realm?" he asked.
For a moment, Gandalf seemed startled by the question. He had to consider his answer
before giving it. "This place is for those whose lives have reached an ending. A child's
life should have its own bliss without it being provided for them. Why do you pose the
question?"
"I have met a child, an elf girl," Frodo answered. "Several days ago she came upon me
on the beach and since then not a day goes by that I do not meet her there."
The wizard began to laugh, squeezing his friend's shoulder and causing him to look up at
him quizzically. "You have made a friend then," he remarked. "No matter through what
lengths you have gone to remain alone, she has snuck by and found a way to your heart."
Frodo saw more behind Gandalf's words. "Do you know her?"
He nodded. "Enaiowen," he said, "Yes, I know of her."
Frodo turned his full attention to the wizard, laying his cup in the grass beside him. So
many questions had formed in his mind since he met the girl but he had no way of finding
the answers. He wanted to help her but he did not want to pry. "Tell me of her what you
know. There is a great sadness about her. She has yet to confide it to me."
The smile all but vanished from Gandalf's face. He knew the answer to his friend's
question. The graveness of it darkened his eyes. He shook his head sadly. "Her tale is
not for me to tell. There is much of it that she does not know herself." Seeing Frodo's
sudden sympathetic reaction, he lightened his tone and his smile returned. "Do not
concern yourself with discovering her secrets so quickly. I have a feeling that the one
who knows her best will soon seek you out."
The words reached Frodo's ears like a warning. "Should I be worried?" he asked.
Gandalf laughed again. "Not at all, dear Frodo. Not at all."
Later that afternoon, Frodo discovered Enaiowen hunched over in the sand. Her fists
balled up into her face and her body shook with uncontrollable sobs. He watched her in
silence, not wanting to intrude on private tears. He had never seen an elf cry and to
watch her now filled him with great pity. Elves were not meant to weep as she did. Not
in the Undying Lands. Not anywhere. As a child still she should be laughing and
playing. If she came upon any distress she should find solace in the comforting arms of
her mother, not spilling her tears alone on the sand.
Frodo could hold himself still no longer. He had allowed the tragedy of the scene to
continue too long. He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. The bones in her
shoulder seemed surprisingly sharp and shockingly small. She cringed at his touch and
looked up at him with angry red eyes.
She was ashamed, not because he saw her crying but because she wanted him to find her
in this miserable state. Too long in her life she had no one to turn to and now she had
selfishly pushed Frodo into the place of friend. She surprised herself with the greatness
of her wont. She fitfully wiped her eyes with her palms and turned away from his
sympathetic and inquiring face. She felt it was far more just that she force the tears away
than to force him to comfort her. "I'm sorry. I was being foolish," she muttered through
clenched teeth. She twisted her shoulder slightly to escape his grasp but found she could
not muster enough will to bring herself to her feet. She merely sat in the sand wishing
she had behaved differently.
Frodo crouched down in front of her. She would not meet his eyes. "It's not foolish.
Tears are the most honest expression I know. They come from emotions so profound that
they must be shared," he said gently.
When she finally looked up at him, he saw that with effort she kept the tears from
returning. "But I shouldn't make you share them."
Her voice trailed off. From the wide-eyed look of surprise on her face and the soft
crunch of sand behind him, Frodo knew they weren't alone. A tall, dark-haired elf,
Guillyn, sneered down his aquiline nose at them.
Instinctively Enaiowen sought Frodo's hand.
"Ah, there is my errant student," Guillyn said with a velvety voice. "Enaiowen, I am sure
you have troubled Mr. Baggins enough. Come with me."
The last three words carried a chill with them. Frodo could feel Enaiowen tremble as she
attempted to comply. He feared what would happen if she left with this elf. He held
tightly to her hand and tugged it gently to reassure her. "She is no trouble, Sir," he
offered innocently.
The dark elf's lips tightened with disapproval. "Indeed. I'm sure she would like to think
she is a treasure," he spat at her with contempt. "Tell him what you really are."
Enaiowen snapped her hand away from Frodo. She pulled her arms about her and
cowered before them. Her eyes clouded with shameful tears. Whoever this elf was he
practiced control over her with fear.
Frodo heard his voice rise in defense of the girl. "What are you saying? She is a child!"
Guillyn ignored him. His eyes focused on the small, trembling child as if she were a
serpent hiding in the sand. "Tell him," he repeated in a deadly whisper.
Her words came out haltingly but Frodo could tell that she had spoken them before. "I
am a menace," she said dully, "and I will grow to be the downfall of my people."
Frodo froze with horror. The words meant nothing to him but the notion that she had
been made to practice their recitation filled him with dread.
Her tormentor smiled with satisfaction. "I sense a note of defiance," he said as he
approached her vulnerable form. He towered over her like a specter, a vision of terror
that would pluck her from the ground and crush her beneath his menacing gaze. "We
must work on your obedience."
Frodo threw himself between them, determined to protect her. "I do not know who you
are, Sir, but that is no manner to speak to a child."
"A child?" Guillyn replied. "Is that what she would have you believe?" The farce of
this hobbit, less than half his size standing in opposition to him had not been lost on him,
but he paused. The Ringbearer required respect. Although he never asked for it himself,
his past deeds warranted it from all the elves. From all peoples. Guillyn told himself that
the hobbit simply misunderstood the gravity of the situation. Luckily for him, he was
well-equipped to explain it. "This child killed her own mother while she was still in her
womb. Only a creature of evil could do something that vile. She must know what she is
and her spirit must be diminished before the darkness in her grows."
The mystery around Enaiowen began to reveal itself. Frodo saw the reason for her
despair. It stood in front of him. He stood his ground between them. Nothing could
convince him that this child was all he claimed her to be. Evil is not born. It is taught.
For all his claims that his methods would destroy her evil, this dark elf had done nothing
but nurture it. She needed to know that there was another way. "You use heavy words,
Sir, and you speak of times that have not come to pass," he said, his voice holding an
edge of warning. "I may not have the grasp of the situation as you do but while I am
here, you shall not harm her, with your words or any other weapon you devise."
Guillyn snorted in disgust, but he knew that he could not oppose the Ringbearer. He
acquiesced unwillingly. "I can see you are resolved in her defense, for now. I shall take
my leave." He turned to leave but paused to regard the girl behind the hobbit.
"Enaiowen, your father shall hear of this."
Frodo watched him leave. He was not satisfied that he was gone until he vanished
completely from sight and hearing. Once he was sure that they were alone he stood
before the stricken girl. She had buried her face in her hands but made no sound. She
had shut out the world hoping that she had hidden herself enough to become invisible.
"Enaiowen," he called to her gently. "You do not have to fear. He has left."
From the shelter of her arms, her voice came out small and strained. "I do not fear him.
It is what you must think of me that I fear."
Frodo pulled her face out from her arms. He held her chin to direct her gaze to his face
alone. "Look at me," he told her. She looked to him. Her tears had made her eyes an
impossible shade of blue. "Enaiowen, are you evil?"
She whimpered suddenly as if caught in a trap. "He says I am."
"And who is he to say that?" he asked.
"He is my teacher, appointed by my father to instruct me." There was the wound so raw
and tender. That horrible dark elf was someone she was supposed to trust. Her father
had trusted her in his care. How deeply did the wound reach?
"Does that make him right?" Frodo asked.
Enaiowen had begun to shake her head but she averted her attention again to behind her
friend. She did not shake but her eyes grew wide. "Father," she spoke part in greeting,
part in warning.
Frodo turned to see a golden-haired elf with a familiar face, one he'd not seen in many
years.
Glorfindel revealed no expression as he called to his child. "Enaiowen, the hour is not
yet late, but I wish to have a word with Mr. Baggins."
TBC
As I indicated in the beginning this was supposed to include Glorfindel's conversation
with Frodo. Since this is already twice as long as I intended it to be that portion will have
to wait until next time. You will see how she came to the Blessed Realm and what her
father fears most. Also, Frodo will get his new job but I bet you can probably guess what
it is. Please review to help me make this the best it can be.
