Interlude Two---Reflecting
It was morning in Lothlorien, and Arwen sat patiently in a wooded grove, doing what she loved best. She smiled as the delicate needle tucked under the thick green fabric and formed a perfect loop of thread.
All around her the sounds of the Golden Wood made her work pleasant, and the bright sunlight shone on her fair face. She was like this when Galadriel found her, sitting down quietly so as not to disturb her granddaughter's work. When Arwen finished her row of stitches she noticed the tall elf next to her, golden waves of hair shimmering in the dappled light, and smiled. Arwen and Galadriel were quite close, and it was Galadriel who had given Arwen the title of Evenstar...the elves' last grace before they departed Middle Earth forever.
Arwen smiled and put down her sewing, beads sparkling on her long lilac sleeve. Galadriel smiled back at her, blue eyes twinkling.
"What are you working on?" Galadriel asked.
Arwen fingered the thick cloth lovingly and grinned slightly, securing the brass buttons attached.
"I am making a winter cloak...for Frodo Baggins, Bilbo Baggins's nephew. I am sure he has one already, but this elvish cloth will keep him especially warm and protected." She frowned a bit. "Bilbo has told me Frodo can fall...very ill, easily. I want him to be warm; in that case...winter in the Shire will be very harsh, this year." Galadriel nodded.
"That is true...I can feel it is so. You have some foresight, Arwen. Not as much as your father and mother have...but a good deal of the ability..." Galadriel finished quietly. Arwen looked at her seriously, putting her cloth and threads aside.
"There is something I must tell you of, Daernaneth," she said quietly. "Something quite strange that occurred a few weeks ago...I have told no one of it, and I believe it is of some importance."
"A few weeks ago I had the most unusual dream. More bits and pieces come are coming to me, although I cannot remember it all...I know there was an hobbit lad with the darkest hair, and a beautiful, fair face. He spoke to me, and I heard the sounds of the sea, and saw a flash of bright light coming from my jewel when I awoke...Daernaneth, I think this lad was Frodo Baggins. I do not know how I know, but I feel it in my heart that our fates will be intertwined, somehow."
Galadriel listened patiently, and smiled a bit. Suddenly she got up; reaching for the silver pitcher that rested behind her. Arwen followed, heart in her throat.
"The mirror," she said simply. Galadriel nodded. Arwen had only looked in her grandmother's mirror once, when she was very young. She had seen dark things...flame, fire, and smoke. Celebrian had comforted and scolded her, but she had been more curious than afraid. Since then, Arwen had tried to curb her wonderings and fears of what she might see in it if she looked again, but had never told Galadriel of her desire.
Arwen watched as Galadriel poured the clear, sparkling liquid she had taken from the stream into the silver basin on its stone pedestal. As she leaned closer she noticed the water seemed to emit a heat, curling her dark hair. She had not yet looked into it, but Galadriel motioned for her to do so, and she gazed deeply into the pool.
The water emitted steam, and began to change, turning a soft gold and opening like a curtain, although it would appear to onlookers not to have moved at all. Arwen was astounded. She did not feel afraid, but strangely peaceful and expectant. Her jewel grew hot and heavy on it's chain.
The gold water changed to silver, and soon a picture took shape, clear as if she was seeing it as it was happening. A frail-looking hobbit lad swaddled in blankets and feverishly coughing rested in an old hobbit's arms as he sang softly. Arwen gasped, as she recognized the older hobbit as Bilbo, and the melody as one she had heard before...her mother sang it to her when she was young.
"Lay down, your sweet and weary head...
Night is falling, you have come to journey's end.
Sleep now, and dream of the ones who came before.
They are calling, from across the distant shore.
Why do weep? What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see, all of your fears will pass away, safe in my arms,
you're only sleeping."
Arwen felt tears gather in her eyes, as the image faded. It was all she needed to see. She knew the lad in the mirror, and in her dream, had been Frodo Baggins. And somehow, in her heart, she knew what part she would play in his future. She fingered her jewel and looked up at Galadriel, an unreadable expression in her eyes.
"He will cross the sea," she said simply. "He is not like the other Shire folk; he will not stay in Middle Earth. Frodo will take my place."
Galadriel nodded and put her hand on Arwen's shoulder as the girl sat down and looked ahead, tears now freely spilling from her eyes.
"A light comes from him, like the light of the elves," she said. "But that light will someday fade...As will mine." She looked up at Galadriel seriously.
"The light of the Valar touches those who are worthy," she murmured, almost to herself.
They sat together, unanswered questions filling the air between them, and the bright sunlight dappling the grove. In the distance both heard the sound of waves.
********************************************************
Frodo stood in the back garden of Bag End looking at his pumpkin with a satisfied expression on his wind-burned face. The chill autumn breeze blew around him, but inside his cousins and Sam were waiting for him with mugs of hot cider. Smiling, he turned around, and to his surprise found Pippin behind him. Beckoning the lad over, he put his arm around him and they admired the garden happily.
"It's almost ready to cut off the vine," Frodo said. Pippin grinned.
"I can't wait until the festival, I'm sure you're going to win, Frodo!" He replied brightly. Frodo smiled slightly, but sighed.
"What is it?" Pippin asked. "What are you thinking about?"
"Just...reflecting. I was thinking...Pippin; do you think I'm...different?"
Pippin looked confused and nodded slowly.
"Of course you're different, Frodo. You...have a light," he said matter-of-factly. Now it was Frodo's turn to be confused.
"What do you mean, Pip?" He asked. Pippin sighed as one who always had to explain, and Frodo couldn't help laughing a bit.
"I mean...You remind me of the sun when it hits the water, Fro. You're not like other hobbits, like Merry and Sam and me. Bilbo called us earthy, but I don't think you're like that...at least, not completely." Frodo shook his head, aghast.
"It's not a bad thing!" Pippin quickly added. Frodo just pulled his cousin closer and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Pippin laughed and returned it. They didn't need to say anything at all, and walked back inside Bag End hand in hand.
It was morning in Lothlorien, and Arwen sat patiently in a wooded grove, doing what she loved best. She smiled as the delicate needle tucked under the thick green fabric and formed a perfect loop of thread.
All around her the sounds of the Golden Wood made her work pleasant, and the bright sunlight shone on her fair face. She was like this when Galadriel found her, sitting down quietly so as not to disturb her granddaughter's work. When Arwen finished her row of stitches she noticed the tall elf next to her, golden waves of hair shimmering in the dappled light, and smiled. Arwen and Galadriel were quite close, and it was Galadriel who had given Arwen the title of Evenstar...the elves' last grace before they departed Middle Earth forever.
Arwen smiled and put down her sewing, beads sparkling on her long lilac sleeve. Galadriel smiled back at her, blue eyes twinkling.
"What are you working on?" Galadriel asked.
Arwen fingered the thick cloth lovingly and grinned slightly, securing the brass buttons attached.
"I am making a winter cloak...for Frodo Baggins, Bilbo Baggins's nephew. I am sure he has one already, but this elvish cloth will keep him especially warm and protected." She frowned a bit. "Bilbo has told me Frodo can fall...very ill, easily. I want him to be warm; in that case...winter in the Shire will be very harsh, this year." Galadriel nodded.
"That is true...I can feel it is so. You have some foresight, Arwen. Not as much as your father and mother have...but a good deal of the ability..." Galadriel finished quietly. Arwen looked at her seriously, putting her cloth and threads aside.
"There is something I must tell you of, Daernaneth," she said quietly. "Something quite strange that occurred a few weeks ago...I have told no one of it, and I believe it is of some importance."
"A few weeks ago I had the most unusual dream. More bits and pieces come are coming to me, although I cannot remember it all...I know there was an hobbit lad with the darkest hair, and a beautiful, fair face. He spoke to me, and I heard the sounds of the sea, and saw a flash of bright light coming from my jewel when I awoke...Daernaneth, I think this lad was Frodo Baggins. I do not know how I know, but I feel it in my heart that our fates will be intertwined, somehow."
Galadriel listened patiently, and smiled a bit. Suddenly she got up; reaching for the silver pitcher that rested behind her. Arwen followed, heart in her throat.
"The mirror," she said simply. Galadriel nodded. Arwen had only looked in her grandmother's mirror once, when she was very young. She had seen dark things...flame, fire, and smoke. Celebrian had comforted and scolded her, but she had been more curious than afraid. Since then, Arwen had tried to curb her wonderings and fears of what she might see in it if she looked again, but had never told Galadriel of her desire.
Arwen watched as Galadriel poured the clear, sparkling liquid she had taken from the stream into the silver basin on its stone pedestal. As she leaned closer she noticed the water seemed to emit a heat, curling her dark hair. She had not yet looked into it, but Galadriel motioned for her to do so, and she gazed deeply into the pool.
The water emitted steam, and began to change, turning a soft gold and opening like a curtain, although it would appear to onlookers not to have moved at all. Arwen was astounded. She did not feel afraid, but strangely peaceful and expectant. Her jewel grew hot and heavy on it's chain.
The gold water changed to silver, and soon a picture took shape, clear as if she was seeing it as it was happening. A frail-looking hobbit lad swaddled in blankets and feverishly coughing rested in an old hobbit's arms as he sang softly. Arwen gasped, as she recognized the older hobbit as Bilbo, and the melody as one she had heard before...her mother sang it to her when she was young.
"Lay down, your sweet and weary head...
Night is falling, you have come to journey's end.
Sleep now, and dream of the ones who came before.
They are calling, from across the distant shore.
Why do weep? What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see, all of your fears will pass away, safe in my arms,
you're only sleeping."
Arwen felt tears gather in her eyes, as the image faded. It was all she needed to see. She knew the lad in the mirror, and in her dream, had been Frodo Baggins. And somehow, in her heart, she knew what part she would play in his future. She fingered her jewel and looked up at Galadriel, an unreadable expression in her eyes.
"He will cross the sea," she said simply. "He is not like the other Shire folk; he will not stay in Middle Earth. Frodo will take my place."
Galadriel nodded and put her hand on Arwen's shoulder as the girl sat down and looked ahead, tears now freely spilling from her eyes.
"A light comes from him, like the light of the elves," she said. "But that light will someday fade...As will mine." She looked up at Galadriel seriously.
"The light of the Valar touches those who are worthy," she murmured, almost to herself.
They sat together, unanswered questions filling the air between them, and the bright sunlight dappling the grove. In the distance both heard the sound of waves.
********************************************************
Frodo stood in the back garden of Bag End looking at his pumpkin with a satisfied expression on his wind-burned face. The chill autumn breeze blew around him, but inside his cousins and Sam were waiting for him with mugs of hot cider. Smiling, he turned around, and to his surprise found Pippin behind him. Beckoning the lad over, he put his arm around him and they admired the garden happily.
"It's almost ready to cut off the vine," Frodo said. Pippin grinned.
"I can't wait until the festival, I'm sure you're going to win, Frodo!" He replied brightly. Frodo smiled slightly, but sighed.
"What is it?" Pippin asked. "What are you thinking about?"
"Just...reflecting. I was thinking...Pippin; do you think I'm...different?"
Pippin looked confused and nodded slowly.
"Of course you're different, Frodo. You...have a light," he said matter-of-factly. Now it was Frodo's turn to be confused.
"What do you mean, Pip?" He asked. Pippin sighed as one who always had to explain, and Frodo couldn't help laughing a bit.
"I mean...You remind me of the sun when it hits the water, Fro. You're not like other hobbits, like Merry and Sam and me. Bilbo called us earthy, but I don't think you're like that...at least, not completely." Frodo shook his head, aghast.
"It's not a bad thing!" Pippin quickly added. Frodo just pulled his cousin closer and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Pippin laughed and returned it. They didn't need to say anything at all, and walked back inside Bag End hand in hand.
