Soft, downy gold locks
Tiny fragile fingers grip
Uncle Frodo's hand

Frodo gasps in awe
Cradling the tiny daughter
Her parents beaming

His time is limited
He knows there is no escaping
He must leave his home

His sadness won't rob
His joy of Elanor's birth
Of feeling love for her

He hears her laughter
Tiny peals of giggles gay
A smile lights his face

His last months are eased
His grave wounds are abated
By this maidchild's smile

Quiet tears are wept
On the morning when last he
Craddles Elanor

But he has peace with
The knowledge she will grow up
In Shire's safety

Giving the babe to Rose
He takes Strider's reins from Sam
Turning to forever leave

Mother and babe watch
The two forms descend the Hill
Then seek first breakfast...