Frodo's Journey-Chapter Two
Frodo awoke to the music of the Elves as they lifted up their voices in song, praising Elbereth and the stars, which are ever in their hearts. He knew only a few words of the Elvish language, and yet understood it just as if it were in the Common Tongue. It was night now, and Gandalf had long since left Frodo to his rest. The Elves were engaged in a mixture of singing, dancing, listening, and dreaming, combining the living world and the realm of dreams as Elves do. Frodo caught sight of Bilbo off to the side, sitting on a pile of silver rope, with his back up against a glimmering, white-washed wall. His white hair was tousled and ruffled by the wind's roving hand, and his face seemed a bit drawn and pale. Fearing for his uncle's health, he decided to go and sit by the old hobbit until Bilbo woke up. He settled down with his own back against the wall, staring up at the black night sky dotted with silver stars. His young hand, creased with many weeks of hard toil and stress only partially smoothed out by a few years at home, entwined in the elderly hobbit's yellowed, time-coarsened hand. The Elvish singing mingled with the song of the Sea until they became one peaceful, soothing melody that almost made Frodo fall asleep again.
He was awakened from a short doze by Bilbo's hand tightening around his own. The old hobbit opened his eyes slowly, taking in the scene around him one step at a time, then stretched to relieve his cramped muscles. "My dear Frodo! How good to see you!"
Frodo turned to his elderly uncle, saying "Good evening, Bilbo, it's nice to see you as well. You look a little down in the weather, though."
"Oh, I suppose I always look a little down in the weather these days. But how did you get here?" Bilbo said, puzzled. Frodo was about to answer him when Bilbo spoke again. "Oh yes, that's right, Queen Arwen let you come, after that affair with the Ring. My my, that was quite a bit of trouble for my little old ring to cause. By the way, where did you get that pretty white light that you held up as we left?"
"The Lady Galadriel gave it to me, Uncle." replied Frodo gently.
"Ohhhh yes…well, it will be nice to have another hobbit along, someone to talk, well, hobbit talk with. I wonder where Gandalf got to? I saw him talking with you over there, the last time I was awake. I wondered what you two were discussing…" Bilbo muttered. He rambled on for some time more, and Frodo sat and listened politely. Then Bilbo dozed off again, with his chin pressed hard against his chest. That can't be very comfortable, I'll move him to his room, and he can sleep in a bed, thought Frodo, and he gently woke Bilbo again.
"You can rest in a bed in your room, Uncle. It would be more comfortable, after all." suggested Frodo.
"More comfortable, yes, but then I wouldn't be able to hear the Elves, all shut up in a room like that." countered Bilbo.
"How about I open your window, so that you could hear the Elves as you rest? I believe there is one in our room. Does that sound better?" Frodo asked.
"Well, I suppose so, as long as there's a window to open. Let's go and see, or we'll never get to find out." Bilbo agreed.
The two hobbits trudged off to their quarters, Bilbo leaning on his old cane, Frodo with the sure step of the young. There were few rooms, since the Elves preferred to stay outside under the stars, but cabins were provided for the hobbits and Gandalf.
The hobbits' room was small but cozy, with a large round window looking out on the main deck where the Elves spent their time. The ceiling had been curved to look like Bilbo's old hole back in the Shire, and the beds were small but covered in warm blankets and quilts. There was a small desk (the Elves had apparently taken notice of Bilbo's writing) and a brass candleholder in the wall above it. Frodo opened the round window wide, and flowing harmonies danced in and filled the room. Bilbo climbed under the inviting covers of the bed nearest the window and almost immediately fell asleep. Frodo stood at the window for a while more, staring out at the beauty of the world around him. The blue Elvish lights gave a magical touch to the scene, and the masts looked like the trees of a small forest. The sea rolled over and over itself, always in new and fascinating patterns, and the boat rocked gently with its movement like a baby's cradle. The pinpoint stars hung in the inky sky like the candle that Frodo had now lit on the wall.
Frodo turned wearily from the window and burrowed underneath the covers of his own bed. In moments he was wandering in dreamlands far away; the Shire, Lothlorien, Rivendell. No evil dreams visited him that night, nor for many nights after.