---
Frodo didn't get to see much of her the next evening, thanks to Turil and a 'prior engagement' they had with some friends of his--something of a little private party for his leaving, but in the brief moment Frodo got to see her, she did manage to slip him a note, asking him to meet her in the west wing of the guest suites, by the tapestry of Luthien Tinuviel.
He was nervous; he found himself snapping at poor Sam who knew something was up but was being too polite to inquire, he found himself having to ask Bilbo to repeat things when he told his stories, which since the old hobbit sometimes lost track of what he was saying made it especially difficult for carrying on conversations.
Turil and the elves heading west for tidings left early in the morning, and Frodo did his best to keep busy all day, learning a bit on how to fight, reading up on the land of Mordor (dark and hopeless reading--perhaps it was better not to know too much about that black land), and keeping Bilbo company as he went about his writing. Sam brought lunch from the main kitchens, and as they all sat down for lunch, Sam studied him; despite the sumptious foods he'd picked out, Frodo couldn't eat much; the knot in his stomach simply wouldn't let him.
Sam scowled as only he could with that kindly face. "You're not eating, Mr. Frodo. Elrond went to a lot of trouble fixing you up, sir, but if you don't take care of yourself, you're going to fall back into illness. I'll not let that happen. Is it the food?"
Frodo twirled his fork in a meat pie. "No, Sam, I just don't seem to have much of an appetite today. My mind is very busy. I will try to eat some to please you, though." He forced himself to swallow a bite; it sat like a lump in his insides. He grimaced and forced down another, not really tasting it.
Sam pursed his lips, crossing his arms. "Is it your shoulder? Really Mr. Frodo, you must tell us when something pains you--I should be beside myself if you were suffering and me not doing a thing to help for it. Can I get you some wine? I noticed the other night with the elves that seemed to ease you a bit."
Frodo looked over to Bilbo to see if that comment had hinted at anything for the old hobbit, but after having polished off two pies and a generous helping of steamed vegetables, the old fellow was fast asleep at the table, his chin resting upon his chest and his fingers laced over his full stomach. Frodo smiled. Perhaps because of his newly apparent age, Bilbo was more dear to him now than ever. He returned his gaze to Sam and could see more questions leaping to his tongue. Best to answer a few now, while Bilbo slept.
"No thank you, Sam; wine can't help with this, I think. I'm sorry to worry you. I'm afraid I haven't been entirely honest with you as of late. You are right to be concerned with me." That had been one thing niggling at him; his time with Mornenêl was straining his friendship with Sam, Merry, Pippin, even Bilbo, after all they had done for him. He probably should have told them from the start, but it had been a secret pleasure to keep her all to himself, one selfish wish in exchange for all the public scrutiny his affairs with the Ring were costing him. But it absolutely wasn't fair to Sam.
"I'm in love," he said finally, setting down his fork.
Sam's eyes got about as big as his plate, and then some. "Mr. Frodo!" he exclaimed, then his brows furrowed and Frodo could all but hear the gears working. "Now that don't make much sense, telling me now, here, in Rivendell . . . Do I know her?"
The lump in Frodo's stomach grew colder. "You met her the other night. Mornenêl of Mirkwood."
"An elf!" Sam's hands were pressed into the table, as if to keep him from toppling over in shock. "Now don't it sound funny, sir, but somehow that seems fitting for you. But Mornenêl--wasn't she--" he blushed, seemingly unable to complete the sentence.
"Married. Yes," Frodo said with a sigh. The lump was fire now, and it had moved up into his chest, choking him. He blinked, realizing he was suddenly about to cry. It didn't matter that she said it was all right; it wasn't right--it went against the core of his being to want someone already claimed by another. That was why he was so nervous--he still wasn't sure he was going to go to her tonight. "She wants to see me tonight, Sam. She says it's all right, but I just don't' know . . . I want to, but . . . Oh Sam, what do I do? I really love her."
Sam blew out a breath, scratching his soft brown curls. "Whew, that's a toughie, sir. I can't say I'm not happy for you, for I am--I'm very happy. Fellow like you deserves the best love in the world. But this here sounds like a right mess, and if she's playing with you, I don't know what I'll do. Has she spoken her feelings?"
Frodo was sick, simply sick inside; he closed his eyes and sat back in the chair, his shoulder throbbing in time with his heart now. Funny how it had never bothered him when he was with her. Nothing else seemed to exist, in her arms. "She loves me too, I think. She said I was a light to her, that I bring her happiness. Sam, if you could see it in her eyes . . . you'd know . . . "
Sam gripped his arm, a welcome steadying pressure. "You don't feel good about this meeting with her, though--that's plain. I don't know about that either--somehow it seems it can only bring about trouble. But I can understand the wanting to. Once the scouts get back, our time here is finished, and it's off to dark places for the likes of us."
They were both silent a moment, contemplating. Sam spoke up again, fiddling with a button on his waistcoat. "She is lovely, of course; quite a match the two of you would make." He looked up, a torn expression on his face. "I think this is one time I can't help you, master. I don't know what choice would be best for you. But I'll support you either way. No matter what happens."
Frodo hugged his friend hard, nodding--part of him regretted pulling Sam into this, but the other half was lifted, knowing he couldn't' have gone on lying to him. With a great sigh, he drew away and sat once more to try to finish his meal.
Once. Maybe just one time, he could be with her, and be satisfied.
Hopefully they could keep their secret then, for the rest of their lives.
-----
TBC
Sidenote: Hurry that Fanfic.net is back up! Thanks for all the reviews so far--plenty more to come. :)
Evermoreelf: no, haven't read "Oh pioneers." Should I? Sounds interesting.
Frodo didn't get to see much of her the next evening, thanks to Turil and a 'prior engagement' they had with some friends of his--something of a little private party for his leaving, but in the brief moment Frodo got to see her, she did manage to slip him a note, asking him to meet her in the west wing of the guest suites, by the tapestry of Luthien Tinuviel.
He was nervous; he found himself snapping at poor Sam who knew something was up but was being too polite to inquire, he found himself having to ask Bilbo to repeat things when he told his stories, which since the old hobbit sometimes lost track of what he was saying made it especially difficult for carrying on conversations.
Turil and the elves heading west for tidings left early in the morning, and Frodo did his best to keep busy all day, learning a bit on how to fight, reading up on the land of Mordor (dark and hopeless reading--perhaps it was better not to know too much about that black land), and keeping Bilbo company as he went about his writing. Sam brought lunch from the main kitchens, and as they all sat down for lunch, Sam studied him; despite the sumptious foods he'd picked out, Frodo couldn't eat much; the knot in his stomach simply wouldn't let him.
Sam scowled as only he could with that kindly face. "You're not eating, Mr. Frodo. Elrond went to a lot of trouble fixing you up, sir, but if you don't take care of yourself, you're going to fall back into illness. I'll not let that happen. Is it the food?"
Frodo twirled his fork in a meat pie. "No, Sam, I just don't seem to have much of an appetite today. My mind is very busy. I will try to eat some to please you, though." He forced himself to swallow a bite; it sat like a lump in his insides. He grimaced and forced down another, not really tasting it.
Sam pursed his lips, crossing his arms. "Is it your shoulder? Really Mr. Frodo, you must tell us when something pains you--I should be beside myself if you were suffering and me not doing a thing to help for it. Can I get you some wine? I noticed the other night with the elves that seemed to ease you a bit."
Frodo looked over to Bilbo to see if that comment had hinted at anything for the old hobbit, but after having polished off two pies and a generous helping of steamed vegetables, the old fellow was fast asleep at the table, his chin resting upon his chest and his fingers laced over his full stomach. Frodo smiled. Perhaps because of his newly apparent age, Bilbo was more dear to him now than ever. He returned his gaze to Sam and could see more questions leaping to his tongue. Best to answer a few now, while Bilbo slept.
"No thank you, Sam; wine can't help with this, I think. I'm sorry to worry you. I'm afraid I haven't been entirely honest with you as of late. You are right to be concerned with me." That had been one thing niggling at him; his time with Mornenêl was straining his friendship with Sam, Merry, Pippin, even Bilbo, after all they had done for him. He probably should have told them from the start, but it had been a secret pleasure to keep her all to himself, one selfish wish in exchange for all the public scrutiny his affairs with the Ring were costing him. But it absolutely wasn't fair to Sam.
"I'm in love," he said finally, setting down his fork.
Sam's eyes got about as big as his plate, and then some. "Mr. Frodo!" he exclaimed, then his brows furrowed and Frodo could all but hear the gears working. "Now that don't make much sense, telling me now, here, in Rivendell . . . Do I know her?"
The lump in Frodo's stomach grew colder. "You met her the other night. Mornenêl of Mirkwood."
"An elf!" Sam's hands were pressed into the table, as if to keep him from toppling over in shock. "Now don't it sound funny, sir, but somehow that seems fitting for you. But Mornenêl--wasn't she--" he blushed, seemingly unable to complete the sentence.
"Married. Yes," Frodo said with a sigh. The lump was fire now, and it had moved up into his chest, choking him. He blinked, realizing he was suddenly about to cry. It didn't matter that she said it was all right; it wasn't right--it went against the core of his being to want someone already claimed by another. That was why he was so nervous--he still wasn't sure he was going to go to her tonight. "She wants to see me tonight, Sam. She says it's all right, but I just don't' know . . . I want to, but . . . Oh Sam, what do I do? I really love her."
Sam blew out a breath, scratching his soft brown curls. "Whew, that's a toughie, sir. I can't say I'm not happy for you, for I am--I'm very happy. Fellow like you deserves the best love in the world. But this here sounds like a right mess, and if she's playing with you, I don't know what I'll do. Has she spoken her feelings?"
Frodo was sick, simply sick inside; he closed his eyes and sat back in the chair, his shoulder throbbing in time with his heart now. Funny how it had never bothered him when he was with her. Nothing else seemed to exist, in her arms. "She loves me too, I think. She said I was a light to her, that I bring her happiness. Sam, if you could see it in her eyes . . . you'd know . . . "
Sam gripped his arm, a welcome steadying pressure. "You don't feel good about this meeting with her, though--that's plain. I don't know about that either--somehow it seems it can only bring about trouble. But I can understand the wanting to. Once the scouts get back, our time here is finished, and it's off to dark places for the likes of us."
They were both silent a moment, contemplating. Sam spoke up again, fiddling with a button on his waistcoat. "She is lovely, of course; quite a match the two of you would make." He looked up, a torn expression on his face. "I think this is one time I can't help you, master. I don't know what choice would be best for you. But I'll support you either way. No matter what happens."
Frodo hugged his friend hard, nodding--part of him regretted pulling Sam into this, but the other half was lifted, knowing he couldn't' have gone on lying to him. With a great sigh, he drew away and sat once more to try to finish his meal.
Once. Maybe just one time, he could be with her, and be satisfied.
Hopefully they could keep their secret then, for the rest of their lives.
-----
TBC
Sidenote: Hurry that Fanfic.net is back up! Thanks for all the reviews so far--plenty more to come. :)
Evermoreelf: no, haven't read "Oh pioneers." Should I? Sounds interesting.