8th October, 1421 SR
Dear Sam,
It was as I feared. The shadow had cunningly followed me even to the Blessed Realm. It was a great blow to me. I had hoped and even half-believed that Eressea would heal me of the memories of darkness. But it did not come to be.
I woke up on the morning of 6th October with a dead feeling in my left shoulder and arm. A chill spread from the scar of the old wound and I felt so weak that I could not get up from my bed. Just like in the days when I carried the tiny shard of Morgul blade in my wound all the way to Rivendell, the world seemed to be veiled in shadows and I could not see clearly. I was so frightened.
Gandalf offered to call Lord Elrond, but I told him not to. I did not wish to trouble anyone. But Gandalf said that Lord Elrond would be troubled if he was not told of what happened. I finally gave in, with the condition that Bilbo should not be told of it. Lord Elrond came and though at first I hated to trouble him, I was grateful that he came. He gave me a drink that lessened the deathly cold and brought some strength back to my limbs. The pain and darkness did not entirely go. But Lord Elrond's touch was a great help.
I tried very hard to go through the day as I usually do, but it was exhausting and when I was weary, the pain throbbed more and the chill sharpened. The Elves seemed to sense that I was in some kind of trouble and they were exceptionally gentle with me. Sometimes, when the Elves sang, the pain eased a bit and sunshine broke through the shadows and I could see clearly. And when we played and danced, when their fair hands touched mine, when the Elves kissed me on my brows, warmth crept into my limb and the pain diminished. But it never did leave me that day.
The next day I felt much better. I was already up and about when Gandalf came with Lord Elrond. I was given another draught of the sweet potion Lord Elrond gave me the day before. Then the three of us sat together and talked. I asked Lord Elrond why I keep having these lapses. He said:
"You have been deeply hurt, Frodo. You have a wound that goes beyond flesh, a wound to your very soul. The Witch-King's blade has that power within it, to rob you little by little of the control over your will and memories. Fortunately we took the shard just in time, but not before it did its dreadful harm. Your skin might mend, your arm heal. But deep inside you the wound still festers."
I saw Gandalf look at me in concern. I could only sit in silence for a while, horrified. Will I have to live with the memories of shadow for the rest of my life? What good is my flight from the Shire if I could not find healing in Eressea?
"I am sorry, Frodo," Lord Elrond went on. "Even my skills could not help you in this matter. You must find the cure within yourself."
"How?" I asked desperately.
"When you know that the past cannot hurt you, that there are more pleasing memories to dwell in, you will be cured," he said.
"I know that," I said. But I know I did not, otherwise I would have stayed in the Shire still.
Lord Elrond smiled wisely. "Do not let it worry you overmuch. It will help you more if you let other thoughts occupy your mind rather than brooding on this pain from the past. And in that, Frodo, the Elves of Eressea shall help you."
And they do, Sam, oh, how they do. They seek always to divert my mind from dreading the darkness that followed me into Eressea. Today I went with some Elves to a valley in eastern Eressea. And there, even in near winter, flowers abounded in such wealth of colours and beauty that even Bilbo stayed awake long enough to see them all. Then after lunch, Gandalf and I went boating with some Elves (of Eregion, no less, Sam! The place where The Rings of Power were forged in older days!) and I napped under a beautiful mallorn tree (very much like yours in Hobbiton) while the Elves sang and played among the trees.
Even now, dear Sam, when Eressea is half-asleep under the soft lullaby of the wind, the shadows that haunted me a mere two days ago seemed to have receded so far that it appeared to be nothing more than a nightmare. Such is the healing power of Eressea, Sam. I might have some hope after all.
Frodo Baggins