Chapter Rating: PG (bit 'o pipeweed)
Chapter Title: Point of View

June 26th S.R. 1421

"Twinkle little star on high,
Kiss my baby, bye and bye.
Wrap her in the firelight,
Keep her safe and warm tonight."

Frodo sang the old nursery rhyme as he nestled the sleeping child into her bassinette in his study. She was the most beautiful child he had ever seen. She had completely stolen his heart the moment Sam placed her in his arms the day she was born. The fact that Elanor Gamgee was not his child didn't matter in the least. Sam and Rosie's firstborn was more precious to him than life itself. Elanor defined all that was good and pure and innocent - and worth his sacrifice.

"That's my darling," he whispered as he kissed her soft cheek and set the intricately-carved cradle gently rocking. He had commissioned two bassinettes to be carved out of wood from the now-deceased giant oak which once crowned Bag End Hill. Freddy Bolger had salvaged the wood, and Tomlin Chubb, the Hobbiton woodcarver had crafted them. The one in Frodo's study featured a prancing pony and a flowering mallorn tree. Its mate in Sam and Rosie's bedroom boasted twenty different carved flower varieties. They were Frodo's gifts to Elanor.

Frodo gingerly sat down at his work desk, grateful for the strong mid-morning sunshine pouring through the study's large round window. Even wearing a medium-weight coat and vest, he was faintly chilled in the summer heat. He hadn't really been warm since his illness in March.

Frodo found it now impossible to conceal his ever-growing symptoms. He was in constant pain and could no longer hide it from Sam or Rosie's sharp eyes. His stomach was particularly effected. Consequently, he was not eating as well, and was rapidly loosing what little weight was on his frame.

Iris Proudfoot suggested to Rosie that spearmint would help settle Frodo's stomach. So Sam had constructed a beautiful window ledge herb garden outside the kitchen window. Sam had scoured the Shire to bring Mister Frodo a variety of mints - spearmint, peppermint, catmint and even rare lemon-scented mint. Rose used them in creating soothing teas for Frodo. She was becoming an excellent nurse, mixing Mister Frodo's special blend of powdered herblight, willow bark and honey into a somewhat palatable spread which he would tolerate on toast.

"Twinkle little star on high,
Daddy sings a lullaby,
Shining down from up above,
Gazing on his gift of love."

Elanor yawned and kicked her perfect little feet, then settled down for her nap. She was an exceptionally beautiful hobbit child, with golden curls on the top of her head and on her tiny feet and toes. She was three months old. Her mother was busy in the kitchen making luncheon meat pies. Her father was out in the hot June sunshine, weeding the large vegetable garden beyond Bag End Hill. Sam would soon be home for lunch.

Frodo eased into his chair at the work desk. He was engrossed in writing another chapter in his book concerning the Fellowship of the Ring when he heard the front door bells chime. After a quick glance to make sure Elanor had not been awakened, he grabbed his cane and answered the bells.

"Gandalf!" he exclaimed. "Well, bless my soul!" Frodo was so delighted to see his old friend that he dropped his cane. He gave the tall, stately wizard a tremendous hug.

"Frodo Baggins, my dearest hobbit!" Gandalf chuckled as he returned the hug. Gandalf's beard was just as long and white as ever, and his eyebrows seemed to be crawling up and over the brim of his pointed hat. He was dressed in a somewhat dusty white robe and had a silver scarf tossed around his neck.

"Come in! Come in!" Frodo gestured the wizard inside the hallway. Frodo picked up his cane and took Gandalf's wooden traveling staff as well.

"Using a cane now?" Gandalf asked with a touch of concern. This was something new. The last time Gandalf had seen Frodo was at the company's parting of the ways outside of Bree prior to Frodo's return to the Shire. That was only three years ago. Frodo had certainly changed physically, and not for the better.

Frodo put away the staff, cane, scarf and hat.

"Oh, just feeling a bit stiff today. Do come in, please. Have a rest while I get Rose." Frodo disappeared into the kitchen as Gandalf eased his too-large-for-a-hobbit-hole frame into the extra-width chair beside the cradle. Taking a sideways glance, he noticed a beautiful baby hobbit-lass with golden curls framing a heart-shaped face. She was fast asleep, her little red lips parted slightly and a bubble of spit forming.

"Well, well! What has the old boy been up to?" Gandalf wondered.

"Gandalf?" Frodo reappeared, leading a strikingly handsome hobbitess by the arm. "Do you remember Rose Cotton? She was at Bilbo's famous one hundred eleventieth birthday party." Frodo put his arm around Rosie's waist and pulled her to his side.

"Oh, Frodo," Rosie blushed, "I'm sure Master Gandalf wouldn't recall me bein' there. He was all busy with them fireworks and all." Rosie disentangled herself from Frodo's grasp and curtsied. "Pleased to meet you, Master Gandalf. Frodo and Sam have told me so much about you, sir."

Gandalf's eyebrows almost climbed off his head. Frodo could hardly suppress a smirk. Gandalf quickly regained his composure and stood.

"And a pleasure to make your acquaintance, young lady," Gandalf said as he took her hand and gallantly kissed it. Rosie blushed even more furiously. "And you must be the mother of this lovely vision of innocence. She certainly favors her mother." Gandalf cast a significant look into the cradle, then a questioning look at Frodo.

Frodo could stand it no longer.

"No, I am not the father," he laughed, "thought I did have a good time having you on right now. Gandalf, old friend, please forgive my little joke. I put Rosie up to it too. The fault is all mine!"

"Well, I would have never forgiven you if you had gotten married and not even invited me to the wedding!" Gandalf laughed.

"Gandalf," Frodo apologized, "let me truly introduce you to Rose Gamgee, Sam's wife and the mother of Elanor Gamgee, the darling of Bag End."

"Beggin' your pardon, Master Gandalf, sir," Rosie said, "but Mister Frodo did put me up to his little joke." She gave Frodo a dirty look. "I hope you won't think ill of me for doin' so."

"Not at all, not at all," Gandalf chuckled. "Not even a Wizard can fathom hobbit humor sometimes."

Frodo walked over to the bassinette and gently picked up Elanor. The tiny baby scrunched up her face in displeasure at being awakened from her nap. A small wail began, quickly hushed by Frodo's soft cooing voice and rocking motions. Elanor opened her dark blue eyes and beamed a smile at her familiar Uncle Frodo. Rosie took the child and excused themselves to leave Frodo with his old friend.

"What brings you out to the Shire?" Frodo asked as they both settled back into their chairs.

"Oh, just passing nearby on my way to Rivendale. I was in Minas Tirith and rode up the old Greenway, which is now renamed the North Kings Highway. It's the path just outside of Bree. I decided to pop over and check up on happenings in the Shire."

"If you rode up, then your horse must need looking after," Frodo said as he painfully stood up.

"In deed, she will," Gandalf said as he also stood up and almost bumped his head on the ceiling.

Frodo grabbed his cane again and the two headed out the front door. A lovely dappled grey mare was tied up to the gatepost and contentedly munching some of Sam's prized flowers.

"Oh dear!" Gandalf said, "So sorry! Come along, Maggie. She's a wonderful horse when she's not stealing the nastursiums. Aragorn gave her to me to replace Shadowfax. He is running free across the plains of Rohan now that his service to me has ended."

"I am sure his harem is legendary by now," Frodo commented as he led Gandalf and Maggie around Bag End Hill. A large communal fenced pasture was in back, housing several sturdy hobbit ponies. Two nickered and trotted over to greet Frodo.

"Well, if it isn't our old friend, Bill," Gandalf laughed as he removed Maggie's pack and saddle and stored them in the shed. "He's looking fat and sassy in his old age."

Frodo was patting a chestnut pony while holding onto Maggie's lead harness. "This is Strider. The same pony Aragorn gave me in Gondor. Sam often teams the two together for light hauling or plowing work, but most of the time they stay out to pasture. I do not go riding anymore." He opened the gate and Maggie went in. She towered over the small hobbit ponies the same way Gandalf towered over Frodo.

Gandalf and Frodo left the pasture and headed back down Bag End Hill. Frodo was obviously leaning heavily on his cane to negotiate the downhill portion of the path. Gandalf thought about offering his arm to the hobbit, but checked himself before making the offer. "If Frodo wishes for help, he will ask for it," he thought. But it pained Gandalf to see his friend in such a state. Frodo was still only in early middle age and should not have been in this condition.

They went into Frodo's study and sat back into the chairs. Frodo poured tea and then awaited the questioning. He knew it was coming.

"Frodo," Gandalf started, "I had heard a rumor that you were not well, but, frankly my friend, I am rather shocked at your condition. You seem to have lost a lot of weight, which I know is not normal for any hobbit. And the cane? What is happening to you?" Gandalf didn't mention the grey hair and dark circles under Frodo's blue eyes.

"Yes, yes ...I know ..." Frodo said. "Rose and Sam and Iris, my physician, are always trying to fatten me up, but it does no good. I cannot seem to keep any weight on. And, well ...we knew this would happen. It is something I live with now."

"Frodo? Are you still in pain from the Nazgul wound?" Gandalf quietly asked.

"It is not the wound itself," Frodo evenly replied, "it is the poison on the sword which is slowly killing me. The poison has worked its way into every part of my body. I will never be rid of it."

He looked directly into Gandalf's eyes.

"I am dying, Gandalf. It is not something I talk about much. I mean, what is the point in that? There is no cure for this. My physician and I work on treating the symptoms. She keeps me as comfortable as possible so I can continue my work. And my work is what is important to me."

Frodo brightened considerably at his last remark. "What a blessing your arrival is to me! I am to the point in my book where I must interview you for some details. How long can you stay? There is so much only you can tell which must be written down. I must capture it so that history is not lost. So much. Please, please say you will stay at least a fortnight?"

"No, my friend," Gandalf shook his head, "I cannot stay nearly that long. I must reach Rivendale by August. I can only stay a week, maybe less. But until I have to leave, you will have my undivided attention. Ask whatever questions you need to ask, and I will endeavor to answer.

But Frodo, why don't you come to Rivendale with me? Elrond would do anything in his considerable power to heal you. He is the greatest healer in Middle Earth. He would do anything for you, surely you know that?"

"I know," Frodo said, "but I must refuse. I will not be traveling any more. Gandalf, I am tired. I am afraid I would not survive the journey to Rivendale. I must finish my section of the book. That is my final task. No, I shall stay here where at least I am comfortable and have my work and my loved ones.

Besides, it was Lord Elrond himself, and you, if I remember correctly, who said this type of wound would never completely heal. There is no healing for me in Rivendale."

Gandalf could only nod his head. "Yes, that was said. But perhaps Elrond could relieve some of your pain again. If you truly wish to be completely healed, there is only one choice and one journey. That's the reason I am going to Rivendale.

We are leaving Middle Earth soon, and will not return. The Elves and I will soon set sail from the Grey Havens with Lord Cirdan. We are sailing across the Western Seas to the Blessed Realm. Your place on the ships of Cirdan is guaranteed, as you were a Ringbearer. Will you not join us? You will find complete healing and peace there."

Frodo brought out the white jewel he kept on a silver chain around his neck, and absentmindedly fingered it. "But could I ever return to Middle Earth after I was cured?"

"No," Gandalf said, "No one is allowed to return to Middle Earth once they have seen the Blessed Shores. It is a one-way journey."

"And I would be cured, but alone," Frodo said, looking at the gem, then at Gandalf. "It is a place reserved for the Elves, is it not? There are no other races there. None of my kind. No hobbits."

"True," Gandalf tried to sound hopeful, "but you are renowned and beloved by the firstborn. You know many already there. Elrond and Galadriel are coming with me. We will be with you. You will have friendship and company and love."

"But not of my own kind."

The front door opened and in walked Sam. "Mister Gandalf! Bless my word! It's good to see you, sir!" Gandalf stood up, this time remembering to crouch down slightly so as to not bump his head, and Sam gave him a huge hug.

"Samwise Gamgee!" Gandalf beamed. "Master Gamgee now! What a lovely wife and beautiful daughter you have. A blessing on your house and on your progeny."

"Well, thank you kindly, sir," Sam politely replied. "If your blessings here are as good as that blessing you put on old Barliman's beer, I'm sure to be swimming in children and grandchildren!" Rosie walked into the study with Elanor smiling in her arms.

"As your heart desires, so shall it be," Gandalf continued his blessing.

"You might want to consult with the wife before giving that sort of blessing, Master Gandalf," she laughed. "Lunch is ready. Sam - best get washed."

After lunch Sam and Rosie went out to work the fields. Rosie decided to take Elanor with her, as the baby would soon need to be nursed. Bag End was left to Frodo and Gandalf.

"Come, Frodo," Gandalf said, "let's have a smoke."

Frodo retrieved some of his medicinal pipeweed and his special pipe, and joined Gandalf outside in the rose garden overlooking the winding Bag End Row and Party Field in the distance. Gandalf entertained Frodo by blowing smoke rings of various colors and shapes, sending them off the hill or behind a flower or under the bench. Frodo smoked his pipe, letting its calming effects smooth aside the dull pain.

"Pipeweed," Gandalf muttered as he sent a blue smoke ring spinning inside a yellow one he had produced earlier. "That's another thing from the Shire I'll miss."

Frodo chuckled. Gandalf's actions suddenly reminded him of Bilbo. "Say, do you have any word about Bilbo?"

"He is a truly amazing hobbit," Gandalf replied. "He's still going, but his days are very short now. He sleeps most of the time and occasionally composes poetry. He still sends some poetry down to the King for his comments ...Treats Aragorn just like the wild Ranger he used to be. But the King never fails to critically read Bilbo's sonnets and send back his notes to the old gent. But I am afraid Bilbo may not live to make the journey over the Western Seas with us. It doesn't seem to bother him. I believe Bilbo is the reason Elrond has waited this long before leaving. Bilbo is allowed to go to the Blessed Realm, as he was a Ringbearer. Sam may also make the trip, even though he only bore the Ring for a short while."

"I think Bilbo is holding out until he has passed the Old Took's record," Frodo commented. "He always wanted to do that. Then he will lay down to rest. I miss him terribly."

"Then come with me to Rivendale before it's too late," Gandalf pleaded.

"It is too late for me already," Frodo wistfully replied. Then he stood, smiled, and took Gandalf's arm. "Come, my friend, I have work to do and you are going to help me do it. I want to hear all about your ride on Shadowfax across the wide plains of Rohan with Pippin as a saddlebag. Leastwise, that is the way Pippin describes it. Now I want your point of view."