CHAPTER 5 – A Sight of the Sea
This chapter is built around a role-play between Elwen and Frodo Baggins of Bag End.
The tower loomed tall and dark above them as they rounded it to enter from the shadowed west side. Its doorway was tall, even compared against elven height; the pointed arch delicately carved with leaves and flowers, although age and weather had blunted the crisp edges of the mason's work.
It was dim inside, the morning sunlight only venturing a few feet beyond the entrance, to illuminate the first half dozen risers of a staircase that curved away around a central newel. Granite steps were difficult to wear away and yet their softened edges and the gentle dip in the centre of each tread, was testimony to the thousands of pairs of feet that had climbed them over the centuries since their construction. Gildor kindled a torch, slung the canvas bag over his shoulder and climbed ahead of them, the glow of the brand held aloft in his hand warming the grey of each precisely fitted stone in the walls.
"Not long, Frodo," murmured Elrond.
Frodo was curious, though he rested against Elrond, the tiny mop of curls snuggling against grey velvet and his pallid skin eerily cool to the touch. "Is it . . . many stairs?"
Elrond's lips curled in a slight smile as the question brought old memories to life. "Two hundred from bottom to top . . . Elladan and Elrohir counted them once, when they were much younger."
They climbed steadily for several minutes, until a pale light began to filter down from a doorway ahead. Gildor snuffed out the torch in a bowl of sand set there for the purpose and Frodo's protector drew his cloak more closely about the little hobbit's face.
"It will seem quite bright when we come back into the sunlight," Elrond warned. He rounded a corner and stepped out into the piercing light, turning to his right to face the early morning sun.
"There is the Shire, Frodo . . . and beyond that the Weather Hills and the Misty Mountains." He drew back the edge of his cloak slowly so that Frodo could see.
"Ah!" Frodo's breath caught: he squinted at first, forced to hide his face in the cloak-edge once more for a moment while eyes, the colour of the sky above them focussed. But then he peered back out, gazing over the landscape with delight, attempting to shade his eyes with the cloak.
"It looks . . .so small . . .from here . . .such a great . . .distance."
Before them Eriador was spread in the sun like some huge quilt. Closest to them was the brown bracken covered hills of the Far Downs and beyond them, the White Downs . . . then the lush farmland of his beloved Shire . . . the tiny fields forming a multi-hued patchwork of green, stitched with dark hawthorn hedges. From this distance the damage done by Saruman was invisible to eyes that did not know the land. A ribbon of shimmering silver marked the Brandywine and beyond it was the dark smudge of the Old Forrest. Whilst to elven eyes the Misty Mountains may indeed have been visible, Frodo could see only a vague shadow on the horizon.
A smile settled over his features: in the sunshine, though, he looked even paler, small features spectrally white. Yet these were soon hidden, the Little One withdrawing into the folds of Elrond's wrap, the sun too bright for his sensitive eyes.
Turning back to his left, Elrond cradled Frodo in the crook of one arm as he pointed to where a river glinted, silver in the distance. "There is the river Lhun and, at its mouth, that small walled settlement is Mithlond, that you call the Grey Havens." He took another step to the left. "And there is the Gulf of Lhun . . . and the sea."
"Ahhhhhhh. . . ." The tiny mouth opened with a soft gasp and Frodo gazed out curiously, peeking from the folds of Elrond's cloak to follow his direction, though he did so with some difficulty, his eyes focussing only with some effort even though he lay in the shadow of his carer.
"It's . . .it's so large," he whispered.
Elrond's voice too, was little more than a breath, his grey eyes focussed on something even more distant. "A wide sea indeed . . . that separates West from East."
To one side, Gildor busied himself with his task. All about the edge of the stone floor of the tower, hemmed within the balustrade, were small holes. The elven guide set a short pole with a crescent at its top, in a hole at the west side and a taller pole of similar design at the east. Then Gildor unfastened the canvas bag he had carried so carefully and removed two large discs of polished silver that he set within the crescents. The shorter he angled to catch the morning sun, then he stood at the taller and began to swing it to catch the reflected sunlight of the first.
Knowing what was to come, Elrond drew his cloak across Frodo's curious eyes once more as he watched Gildor tilt the disc. There was a bright flash of light, followed by two more and then Gildor paused and after a few moments there was an answering flash from Mithlond.
Elrond's face sought Frodo's; a pale moon within the midnight shadow of his cloak. "They know we are coming. Two more days and we will be boarding, Frodo."
"So . . .long . . .as that?" Frodo sounded almost disappointed . . .a soft, shuddering sigh came from beneath the cloak, and the small bundle sank back against Elrond a bit more. "I . . .I'm . . .so tired . . .very, very . . .tired." He squinted a little, despite the cloak-shade and the right hand fumbling fretfully for the Evenstar on its chain about his neck.
The fatigue was duly noted and Elrond settled him more comfortably. "We will go down now." He snagged the chain about the little hobbit's neck and drew it out so those tiny fingers could more easily find the object of their search.
With a nod to Gildor, now packing away the mirrors, Elrond began the descent. It was darker, without the light of Gildor's torch, but elven eyesight could easily find the steps. Two days was a long time indeed, for one so frail as this, and beyond that was the sea voyage. Elrond hoped that his own skill and both his daughter's gifts would aid Frodo, but the pale features within the protection of his cloak made success seem more unlikely with each passing hour.
"Thank you."
Frodo's voice was faint, a little hoarse, as he was carried back into the stairwell, fingers at last managing to clasp the chain and close over the stone, white-knuckled. He began to whisper, as if afraid of anyone hearing.
"I'm . . .I'm terribly . . .thirsty . . .but it's . . .so difficult . . .to swallow . . . Like . . .cotton-wool . . . packing . . .in my throat."
"Once I have you settled I will help you drink a little more of the broth." Elrond looked down into the large eyes, seeing only uncertainty, and paused. Carefully, he sat on the steps, settling Frodo in his lap.
"I have been helping you for two days, as we rode. Let me try once more."
Grey eyes grew hooded, focussed beyond Frodo's features. Reaching down into the large tapestry of his own soul, Elrond teased out some of the strands.
From a young elf, abandoned by both parents he drew out a determination to continue. From a husband, watching his wife board a white ship he drew hope and from a father, dandling a tiny baby girl upon his knee he pulled the love of life. These he wove to form a strong but gossamer thin thread and then he carefully stitched it through the tattered web of Frodo's fea, pulling together some of the wider rents. Perhaps it would hold for a little while. He watched the shining fea.
Barely. The threads held fast . . .but only just. And yet . . .it was enough: Frodo's fair features seemed to regain the slightest hint of pink at the cheekbones, and the fingers clasping the Evenstar loosened slightly.
"I'd . . .if it's . . .all right, I'd . . .really like . . .a drink of . . .water when we . . .get back," confessed the tiny voice. "Just water."
Rising and cradling Frodo within the warm security of his arms, Elrond continued down the winding staircase. "You shall have it."
Outside the air was clear, and a little cool despite the bright sun. Sam met them at the bottom of the hill and it was the work of only minutes for elf and hobbit to have Frodo wrapped in several blankets and supported against his friend's chest once more. Elrond touched the rim of a cool cup to Frodo's lips and trickled a little water into his mouth . . . his fingers stroking, feather light, at the tiny throat.
Yet the relief evident on Frodo's features lasted only a second. He began to cough, choking as the effort at swallowing failed. The tiny hobbit was too weak even to sip, and struggled unsuccessfully to lean forward, choking as if he might gag. Strong hands caught him, easing him forward and rubbing his back and the fit passed at last, leaving Frodo breathless, blue eyes bright with tears.
"So thirsty," he whispered, beginning to cry softly. "And . . .and yet . . .I can't."
Elrond held him close for a moment, trying to soothe by rocking the tiny frame as he would a child.
"Shhhhh, Little One. Will you let me try another way? Just a few drops at a time, like the medicine."
There was a tiny nod. Frodo sniffled weakly, shivering in Elrond's arms, though already he felt warm to the touch again, the slight fever that had intermittently troubled him returning. "All r-right."
He was returned to the comfort of Sam's waiting arms and Elrond tucked the blankets more closely about him. Dampening a piece of cloth with water from a canteen, he folded it and laid it across Frodo's brow. From the herbal at his side he produced a medicine dropper, which he filled with water.
Elrond touched a finger to the little hobbit's chin, gently prizing open pale lips and a few drops of cool water were slipped onto his tongue, followed by the whisper light touch of fingers at his throat once more.
Sam watched anxiously, his face lined with worry. Slowly Frodo responded . . .and this time, success: slowly the tiny muscles reacted, and Frodo managed to swallow weakly, taking the water greedily.
Relieved, Elrond settled himself more comfortably at Frodo's side and filled the dropper again. "I will continue until you tell me you have had sufficient, or there is broth if you prefer." A few more drops landed on Frodo's waiting tongue, followed by the touch at his throat.
Beyond them the camp was settling down to rest . . . Bilbo being lead away from the fire to another corner where he was settled in blankets and fell asleep at once. One elf stood guard and, at the fire, two more sat singing softly while they waited for stones to heat to set around Frodo.
The tiny lips curved up in a faint smile . . .Frodo seemed content, and swallowed again, the delicate motion still requiring the aid of Elrond's touch. Sam watched, brown eyes sad, though he continued to support Frodo firmly, keeping the fragile body comfortably propped against his sturdy one.
Yet suddenly Frodo's eyes focused . . .and not on Sam or Elrond, but . . .some point similarly close, and he suddenly blinked, shaking his head.
"No . . .please . . .not yet."
"What is it, Frodo?" Elrond lowered the dropper, placing it back in the cup and laying a hand on his charge's cheek to check the course of the fever. If Frodo heard Elrond's query, he did not respond, merely sinking back, allowing the elven lord to check his temperature. The fever was definite, but not the height one would expect for it to be the cause of such confusion.
"Just . . .just a little . . .longer." Frodo's voice was desperate, pleading, exhausted . . .and at once Sam's eyes took on a pained, anxious expression of recognition.
"Samwise?" Elrond's face grew concerned, which was enough to worry Sam in itself. "Do you know what he is seeing?"
Frodo's faint voice continued. "Please . . .just a little longer, Smeagol . . .master has to rest a little longer . . .and then I'll . . .I'll be ready . . .to go on."
"He . . .somehow he thinks he's back there." Sam's expression was sad, dark with recognition and sorrow. "In . . .well, I reckon around close to when we were in Ithilien, while that Gollum creature was playin' guide for us. Sometimes he'd try to push on too soon."
The healer had seen this confusion in mortal and elf before and knew that it was a bad sign. A firm but gentle hand turned Frodo's face towards Elrond's. Grey eyes met blue and the elf lord's voice seemed to float into the little hobbit's mind.
"You do not have to move on, Frodo. You can stay here. Stay with us."
This reassurance seemed to calm the Ringbearer: sighing softly, he settled back into Sam's arms, snuggling securely against the familiar shoulder, the comforting arms cradling him close.
"Oh . . .all right, then . . .wake m-me in . . .two hours' time . . .should be . . .rested . . .enough . . .by then." The dark lashes fluttered shut and Elrond gave up any further attempt to feed him. He would wake again later and then he would be given broth and a sedative to see him through the day.
The healer closed his herbal.
"He's not too good, is he, sir?" Elrond looked across at Sam's open and honest face.
"No, Samwise. He is not 'good'" he replied, calmly.
Sam dropped his head to rest his chin upon the chestnut curls. "You should havestayed at home, Frodo. Me and Rosie would have looked after you . . . tucked you into a soft feather bed and kept you warm and comfortable." He raised his eyes to meet Lord Elrond's once more, a part of him surprised that he could do so. When he had first met the mighty elf he had been unable even to look at his face, let alone lock stares with those ageless and age-filled eyes.
"Can you bring him safe to the Grey Havens? Can you get him across the Sea?"
Elrond made no attempt to break Sam's gaze. "I believe I can bring him safe to the Grey Havens and I will do all that I can to bring him to the Undy . . . to the West."
"And will he find healing in the West?"
"Beyond the boat I cannot say . . . for his healing will not be in my hands."
Sam lowered his eyes and his chin quivered as silent tears slid down his cheeks to anoint his master's curls. "Will there be a soft bed for him on the boat? And feather pillows?"
"Yes, Samwise. And hot water bottles, warm broth and gentle music to lull him to sleep," replied Elrond softly, reaching out to brush a tear from the gardener's face.
"Thank you." Sam kissed the crown of Frodo's sleeping head. "He's fond of his feather beds."
Elrond rose in one fluid movement. "When you judge him to be sleeping deeply enough, lay him down and take some rest yourself. I will send warming stones to lay around him."
True to his word, Elrond returned in a little while with two other elves and some cloth wrapped stones. Fatigue had begun to overtake Sam and his chin had sunk onto his chest. At Elrond's gentle touch on his shoulder he jumped.
"I am sorry, Samwise. I did not intend to startle you. You should sleep, for we have a long journey still ahead of us and then you will have the journey back to the Shire."
Sam rubbed his eyes. "It's alright, Master Elrond, sir. I'm used to looking out for him."
Elrond smiled. "I have no doubt that you are and your loyalty is laudable, but we would like to help. Please allow us this honour. I will watch over Frodo for you."
Sam considered for a moment. Frodo seemed to be sleeping peacefully at last and Lord Elrond and his kin had been very attentive so far. "Thank you, sir. I think I will take a little nap, if you'd be willing to stay with him."
Much to the gardener's embarrassment, Elrond draped a blanket about Sam's shoulders. "Why not lie down here, at his side. Then you will hear if he awakens."
Suddenly feeling very sleepy Sam took his advice, falling into a deep slumber as soon as he did.
TBC