Chapter 14

"But, Lord Elrond, I feel better now than I've felt for months," Frodo pleaded. "I only want to ride with them as far as the fords and then I'll turn back."

Gandalf, Pippin, Merry and Sam stood a little way back, watching in some amusement as the small figure faced off against the tall, stern elf. In truth, Frodo was a little surprised that he had the courage to do this, however over the past two weeks, he had felt more stable and confident than he had for a long, long time. Perhaps it was the comfort of having Bilbo around, or perhaps he was just more physically rested. Either way, Frodo did not want to say goodbye to his friends just yet.

Elrond studied him for a few moments in silence. They had been arguing for several minutes and, on and off, for nearly a week before that. The elf glanced up and over Frodo's head, to where Gandalf watched, his face unreadable by the hobbits. Frodo saw a silent exchange and then those sharp grey eyes were focussed upon his once more.

"If you will wait here for a few minutes while I fetch a mount, you may go with them." When Elrond saw Frodo's face beaming in triumph he raised one finely arched brow. "You may not ride astride but I am prepared to let you sit upon a horse with me. That is my only and final word upon the matter."

Suddenly very much aware of the wisdom and power of this ancient elf lord, Frodo swallowed his pride and nodded. "Thank you." When Elrond strode back into the house, however, Frodo spun around and was soon enveloped in a trio of happy voices and several friendly arms. The ancient wizard merely stood off to one side, smiling at the way this tiny hobbit could melt even Elrond's warrior heart.

True to his word, as he had always been, within a few minutes they heard another horse approaching and turned to see Lord Elrond seated upon his tall grey mare. When Frodo noticed that he had discarded long formal robes for riding leathers and that there was a full bag of provisions, not to mention blankets, tied to his saddle he realised that he had been outsmarted by the elf. There was no way that even Elrond could have prepared so thoroughly in so short a space of time. It was clear that the conversation had been anticipated.

Frodo smiled ruefully at the elf as Gandalf handed him up into Elrond's arms and the arching of one brow, accompanied by a twitch of his lips was the elven lord's only reply. Amid much light banter and some laughter . . . when Bill butted Sam lightly, sending him sprawling across the cobbles . . . the rest of the party mounted and set out through the gates at a leisurely pace.

They were in no hurry and so they stopped to rest frequently, spending the night under the wide canopy of a chestnut tree. The hobbits decided that there were definite advantages in travelling with the Lord of this valley, for Elrond knew exactly where to find fresh water, berries for desert and nuts to chew on while they sat around the fire after supper.

During their journey from Minas Tirith and their stay in The Last Homely House the hobbits had heard many lays sung and tales narrated, but never had they heard Elrond recite or sing. Sam, ever one for stories, finally plucked up the courage to ask for a tale. Elrond considered for a moment, his eyes resting upon Frodo, and then the elven lord's strong, perfectly pitched voice sang out in slow and stately cadence and it seemed that the whole valley joined in the melody, for he sang of the creation of the world.

"There was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Iluvatar; and he made first the Ainur, the Holy Ones, that were the offspring of his thought, and they were with him before aught else was made. And he spoke to them, propounding to them themes of music; and they sang before him, and he was glad . . ."

When the last notes faded, carried away upon the breeze, and the fire had died down to warm embers, the four hobbits shook themselves, dazedly. Sam was first to speak, almost afraid to break the spell woven by elf and valley.

"Thank you, sir. Begging your pardon, and all, but I'd expected a mighty lord like yourself to sing of warriors and kings. I'm right glad you chose that tale, though."

Elrond smiled across the warm glow of the fire at Frodo, where he leaned against Merry's shoulder, eyes half lidded in the fringes of sleep. "The song of creation seemed more appropriate."

Taking their lead from Frodo they all settled down for the night. The leaves on the ancient tree that sheltered them were still green and their soft whispering soothed as well as any lullaby. Autumn was closing in but the ground still held some warmth and Imladris, like Lothlorien, seemed to keep different time to the world around her. Even so, Frodo began to drift awake some time in the early hours, feeling chilled. Before he could open his eyes, however, gentle hands tucked extra blankets around him and he snuggled into them appreciatively, managing only a murmur of thanks before slipping down into slumber once more.

Warm sunshine, the smell of bacon and mushrooms cooking and the voices of his companions woke Frodo next. He rolled over sleepily, wincing at a slight ache in his left shoulder, and sat up. Merry grinned across the fire at him.

"Awake at last. If you'd slept any longer Pippin was going to eat your breakfast and we were going to leave you to your snoring."

Frodo rubbed his eyes and yawned, accepting the plate that Sam pushed into his hand. "I don't snore," he mumbled grumpily.

Pippin giggled. "Oh, definitely not. And neither did Gimli."

Frodo gave him a glare that he hoped would freeze his younger cousin to the spot but Pippin only giggled louder and Frodo gave in, popping a fried mushroom in his mouth. By the time he had finished his breakfast and the others had broken camp Frodo was feeling more agreeable and managed to slip close to Pippin before they remounted.

"I would watch what you say in future, cousin . . . or I will tell everyone about the noisy night you subjected me to after eating that bean stew, on a camping expedition a few years ago." Frodo whispered as he wrinkled his nose and wafted his hand in front of his face.

The irrepressible Pippin grinned. "That was an interesting evening, wasn't it?"

Frodo returned the grin and clipped him lightly on the ear before turning, ready for Gandalf to hand him up to Elrond. He could still feel a chill in the air, although it didn't seem to bother the others, and Frodo was glad of the additional warmth of Elrond's chest against his shoulder.

After only an hour's riding they came to the Ford's of Bruinen and halted upon the near bank. Here the hobbits turned their ponies and looked up at their companion, where he leaned lightly against the elven lord. Frodo smiled down, although he couldn't resist a quick glance upstream, half expecting a huge wall of water to come bearing down on him. Bruinen was on her best behaviour today, however and chattered lightly over the pebbled riverbed.

Merry reached up a hand and Frodo took it strongly. "I'll miss your good hobbit sense, Merry."

His cousin tilted his head, giving him a lopsided grin. "I shall be sure to give your regards to the Sackville Baggins' when I meet them."

Frodo chuckled. "Don't bother to re-assure them that I won't be coming back."

"Wouldn't dream of it, cousin."

Merry moved aside and Pippin replaced him, nudging his pony close. Frodo frowned down at him.

"Do try and stay out of trouble Pip."

Pippin broke into a broad smile. "I always try to stay out of trouble, cousin Frodo. It just seems to . . . find . . . me."

"Well, at least try running from it occasionally. You don't have to make yourself quite so accessible."

"If I remember rightly, it was running from trouble that got me mixed up with you," he shot back quickly.

Frodo smiled as Pippin ducked out of reach of his cousin's hands, allowing Sam to slip into the gap and for a moment neither he nor Frodo spoke. Silent tears were sliding down the gardener's face and Frodo could feel his own throat aching with swallowed sobs. It was he who eventually spoke.

"Dear Sam. What would I have done without you?"

"I didn't do nothing that anyone wouldn't have done in my place," he replied through trembling lips.

Frodo glanced up at his protector and Elrond lowered him gently to the ground. Merry took Bill's reins from Sam's slack fingers and the gardener slid from his pony and into Frodo's waiting arms. And it seemed to Frodo that the chill that had dogged him all morning faded in the warmth of Sam's embrace.

"Oh Sam. I dragged you into such danger and I would not have come through without your love and care. You go back to the safety of the Shire and the arms of your Rosie. Go and have your own family to look after instead of caring for this grumpy and ungrateful hobbit." Frodo had finally lost the battle and his face was wet with tears as his quivering chin rested upon Sam's shoulder.

Sam pulled back, horrified. "Mr Frodo . . . you've never been ungrateful. You've always been a good master and . . . and the best of friends."

Frodo's tears turned to laughter. "I notice you didn't say I wasn't grumpy! But I don't mind, Sam dear. I couldn't have had a better friend and I shall miss you."

When Sam would have interjected Frodo forestalled him. "No! You go and make a good life for you and Rosie. I will have my own family to look forward to and I'll not get in the way of yours." He pulled back, standing firm and turning Sam around to face his pony. "Off with you, Sam lad, before I become grumpy."

He couldn't see whether Sam smiled at that remark as his friend clambered meekly back upon his pony. But when Sam turned to look down at him he was still crying. Frodo laid a hand upon his arm.

"Goodbye, Sam dear."

"Goodbye, Sir."

Frodo smiled at the honorific and turned to Gandalf. "Make sure they get safely home, Gandalf. And thank you for all your care and kindness."

"I will see them safely upon their road. Farewell, Frodo Baggins."

With that, the travellers called a brief farewell to Lord Elrond, trotted their ponies across the shallow fords and, with one final wave, disappeared into the trees upon the far bank. Frodo allowed the elf to settle him back upon the tall horse and they turned back towards what would now be the hobbit's home. He shivered as a cold chill ran through him and moved to stroke his stomach as he felt the babe shift uncomfortably too.

Blinking in some confusion Frodo tried to discover what had happened to the sun that had felt so warm on his face when he had awoken earlier. A strange grey mist threatened to enclose him now and he was about to comment, when a sudden sharp and icy pain impaled his left shoulder. Frodo let out a long keening shriek of agony, before his breath expired and he was tumbled down into cruel and frigid blackness, only vaguely aware of the strong arms that caught him before he hit the murky waters of despair and loss.

TBC