***

"Elrond?"

"Not now, Galadriel."

The Morning Star followed the former master of Imladris down the path in the greensward.

"But, Elrond-"

"I'm sorry, Galadriel, but I can't talk now. I promised Celeborn that I'd meet him and Gandalf at the west end – I ought to be there now!"

"Master Elrond!"

Elrond stopped short and turned to Galadriel.

"Yes?"

"The Alqua has arrived."

"Wonderful." He turned to go, but the lady grabbed his arm.

"Please, Elrond, listen! One of the passengers was the hobbit Samwise Gamgee."

"Oh? Good. How is he?"

"He is dead."

Elrond face-faulted.

"What?!"

"Dead, Elrond. He died in Frodo's arms at the harbor."

"But how did you-"

"My new Mirror."

Without another word, the Loremaster took off eastward at full speed.

Faintly from the woods came the cry, "Tell your husband that I'll be a little late!"

***

"…I don't know what to say, Frodo. It's a great shock for all of us."

Frodo did not respond. Gandalf sighed and began again.

"I know how hard this is for you, especially after waiting for so long…"

"Oh, leave him in peace!" ordered Galadriel. "His grief is beyond us all, Mithrandir. And, do not forget, Elrond thinks there is still hope."

"Forgive me, my lady, but Elrond is hurt that anyone has passed beyond his aid in Valinor. I would not rely on his council in this mater."

"False hope is better than no hope at all!" retorted the elf-queen. "And while we have hope, we shall cling to it until the bitter end!"

The wizard shook his head sadly.

"High hopes lead to great disappointments."

"I have no hope," said Frodo bitterly.

"There is always hope," Galadriel reminded him.

"Not for me." Scrambling to his feet, Frodo ran away from the hill and the house built into it, away from where Elrond labored to restore life to a certain hobbit.

Gandalf started after him, but Galadriel laid a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"It is beyond us," she said softly. "We cannot understand, you and I."

"Oh, cabbages," scoffed the wizard. "Do not lump me in with your race. I have some inkling of hobbit grief."

The round green door – much like the door of Bag End – creaked in protest as it swung open. Elrond smiled wearily, pale but triumphant.

"He lives."

Galadriel looked sidelong at Gandalf, who ignored her.

"I still do not know what illness he has," continued Elrond, "or how to cure him, but-" He looked around. "Where is Frodo?"

"He ran away."

"He what?"'

"I expect he was discouraged," said Galadriel seriously.

Gandalf snorted.

"Discouraged? …Oh, never mind." The Loremaster beckoned them inside. "Come, see him."

"Gladly." The wizard walked into the house. Galadriel followed close behind, and Elrond shut the door behind them.

The hill-house was really just a three-roomed affair; it featured a small kitchen and dining room, with a little bedroom above. It was Elrond's residence, and its light came from candles in the bedroom, a lamp in the kitchen, and the elf-ring Vilya mounted in the dining room. The trio went directly upstairs to the bedchamber.

The room itself was very plain – by elf standards. Only a few richly-carved wooden panels decorated the walls, and the wooden framework of the bed had just a little silver inlay. The white sheets that currently covered Sam had only three inches of embroidery at the top hem, and just a little gold thread had been used. The mithril candelabra had only a little rune-work in black metal on its base.

Gandalf went directly to the hobbit's side.

"Samwise Gamgee!"

Sam's eyes flew open. Elrond frowned.

"You should sleep, Samwise son of Hamfast. You are not yet healed."

"I…I guess not…" Sam lifted his head a little. "But I feel a sight better than before. Less dizzy and weak, you know." He observed who his visitors were and smiled faintly. "Mr. Gandalf! Lady Galadriel! Bless my buttons, but I didn't expect to see either of you again!"

"Oh, Gandalf," said the exasperated Loremaster, "I went through all this trouble to restore him, then more trouble to put him to sleep, and you have to wake him up again!"

"Don't fret, sir, it's all right." The hobbit glanced around. "Begging your pardon, but where's Mr. Frodo?"

"Gandalf drove him off," said Galadriel sweetly.

"Fiddlesticks," the wizard mumbled. Sam looked crestfallen.

"I'll fetch him back," offered Elrond. "I am the youngest."

Once he had gone, Sam grinned.

"Youngest? I suppose it's true for you three, but he could be my gaffer's grandsire's great-great-great-great-great-grandfather's uncle, by your leave."

Gandalf laughed; Sam was painfully reminded of those few times, on the long road to Mordor, when his master had laughed.

"How's Mr. Frodo been?" he asked anxiously. "He was so… changed… when he left, and I only saw him for a moment before I blacked out."

Galadriel smiled broadly.

"Back from the dead, Master Samwise, and already asking after Frodo?" She turned to Gandalf. "I like this hobbit!"

***

"…Frodo? Is that you?"

There was no reply. Elen crept into the thicket where she expected to find the hobbit.

"Oh, Frodo…"

The elf felt her heart melt at the sight of the silently weeping hobbit. She sat by him and put a comforting arm around his quivering shoulders.

"It's all right, Frodo. It'll be all right."

Frodo did not yield to her embrace.

"Leave me."

"But, Frodo-"

"Please, Elen."

"Frodo, you can't lock everyone out. You can't be alone."

"I am alone!"

Elen cringed at his harsh tone. The hobbit turned his back to her.

"I have lost my last reason for living in the land of immortality. Just – just leave me alone, all right?" Slumping forward, he abandoned himself to his grief.

"Oh, my poor hobbit…" Elen bent over him and stroked his forehead gently. "Have you bid him farewell?"

"…No…It's too hard, Elen, much too hard."

"Nevertheless-" She stopped short and grinned. "What a fun word! Anyway, you really ought to."

Reluctantly, Frodo let her help him to his feet.

"Elen, my friend, sometimes you're more hobbit than elf."

"And you're more elf than hobbit," she retorted. "Come on, we're not far from Elrond's."

***

"You said we weren't far!"

"Oh, shut up. It's your own fault, running off without even looking around or seeing how far you went."

"Bothersome elf."

The barely-audible sound of leaves bending and crackling underfoot reached their ears. Frodo stopped short.

"It's…one of them…" He looked imploringly at Elen. "I don't want to speak to them, just yet."

"Oh, all right." The elf glanced around. "Just sit behind this tree with your back against it. I'll talk to him and send him off."

"Thank you!"

When Elrond arrived at the spot, he found Elen leaning against a tree, apparently deep in thought.

"Mára aurë, Elen."

"Oh, mára aurë, Master Elrond." She smiled wanly. "I'm on my way to see a dead hobbit."

"Really? There aren't any dead hobbits in Valinor – unless Frodo killed himself, the little fool."

In his hiding place, Frodo stiffened.

"B-but…" stammered Elen. "I saw him! I held him as he was dying! I watched him die in Frodo's arms!"

"My dear silly child, if you're referring to Samwise Gamgee, you're much mistaken. That hobbit fell into a coma at the harbor, and I took the liberty of restoring him."

A flash of dark brown streaked by them. Though neither elf could properly see the hobbit, they could hear his joyful shout.

"He's alive! Praise the White Lady, he's alive!"

***

Aww...happy ending? We'll see. –ORS