Chapter Eight: Water and Wishes

Once they entered Frodo's room, Bilbo pulled back the coverlet and Sam set Frodo down on the bed. The Lady Arwen entered a second later with a pitcher of water and a glass goblet.

"It is imperative that he regains his strength," she said. "Therefore, Samwise, I need you to make him something to eat."

Sam took the egg basket from Bilbo. "Fried or scrambled, sir?" he asked, naming the only two ways his master ever ate an egg.

"Scrambled," said Frodo, his throat parched and his voice unsteady. Sam nodded and rushed out of the room, eager to help in any way that he could.

Arwen turned to Bilbo. "I do not think that an ailment like this will require my father's care," she said, her voice soft and melodious. "But nevertheless, he will be upset if he is not told. Will you go and find him for me?"

"Certainly, my lady," said Bilbo, and kissed her hand.

Now Frodo and the Lady Arwen were alone. She held the pitcher in front of him. "You must not drink it too quickly, Frodo, no matter how much you may want to," she said. "So much water after dehydration will be a shock to your body, and I do not want your recovery to be hurt." She poured him a glass of the liquid and handed it to him.

Frodo tried to do as she said, but it was very difficult. The pure coolness of the water flowing down his dry throat was like an elixir of strength. When the glass was empty, he thanked her, and asked for another.

"You must pay special attention to taking care of yourself," said the Lady. "Not only because of your wound, but because the Ring destroys."

Frodo set down the goblet. "This may sound foolish to you," he said, "and ignorant, but it seems to me that Rivendell is such a good and splendidly beautiful place that the Ring couldn't hurt anyone here."

Arwen smiled. "I hear your words not as ignorance but as high praise, Frodo son of Drogo," she said. "It may be that Rivendell heals pain, but I would still be very careful if I bore the Ring's burden." A dark shadow of anguish crossed her fair face. "For some, not even the glorious splendor of Rivendell can cure their misery."

Frodo hesitated. Then he said, "Do you speak of your feelings for Stri – Aragorn, my lady?"

Arwen looked up at him, here eyes shining with unshed tears. "It is not right that I should unburden myself to you, Frodo," she said. "The load you carry is so heavy already."

"It seems much lighter than yours, here, in the Last Homely House," said Frodo. "I think that to talk would ease the pain. And Aragorn would not want you to suffer."

Arwen's lip trembled and suddenly she began to wail, her pale body shaking with sobs. Frodo's eyes widened in alarm. "It's all right!" he cried. He hurriedly climbed off of the bed and dug through one of the bags that lay on the other side of the room. After a few seconds, he found what he was looking for. "Here, here's my handkerchief."

Arwen took it, but unfortunately its small size prevented it from doing much good. Frodo took her hand in his. "You can use the corner of my blanket, if you like."

"Thank you," said Arwen, and she wiped her eyes on the soft edge of the coverlet.

"You have heard, Frodo, the lay of Beren and Luthien Tinuviel?" she asked when the majority of the tears had subsided.

"Yes."

"If I were marry Aragorn, my fate would be that of Tinuviel. While my father, friends, and relatives lived on, I would perish at Aragorn's death."

Frodo pondered this, and the enormity of it struck him for the first time. It would be like if he, choosing love, would die before everyone – before Bilbo, before Merry, before Pippin, before even Lobelia. But choosing love with whom, he asked himself. Sam?

"If I could do as I pleased," said Arwen, "I would marry Estel now, before he leaves on this perilous quest. He wants to travel with you to Mordor."

"Estel?" asked Frodo.

"It was a name of his youth, an Elvish name meaning 'hope'," said Arwen. "It is the name by which I first met him and it is the name by which I think of him, though his true name is Aragorn." She sighed. "I would marry him now, but my father fears for my doom, should Aragorn die on his journey. It is understandable, and I would most likely think the same for my own child, if I had one, but the choice is mine and not his. Still, I do not wish to hurt him. It is inevitable that my marriage to Aragorn will injure him, for it insures our separation, but I have no desire to hurt him again with disobedience."

"I wish I could help you," said Frodo, "but I have no experience in these matters."

"If I could," said Arwen, "I would go on this mission with you, and him. There I could be with the man I love and not be disloyal to my father, for I would go as a fellow traveler and not as Aragorn's wife."

"I think you should ask him if you could," said Frodo, "for there were many things left undecided in the Council of Elrond, and I do not know yet who will all accompany me. I would be greatly honored to have you as a companion."

Arwen raised his hand and kissed it. "I thank you for your advice," she said. "I may take it. But for now, I will go and see if Samwise has finished with your eggs."