Day Seventeen (cont.): Frodo's Dream

Frodo awoke from the nightmare into the darkness of night. Something was constricting his arms and legs. He couldn't move! NO! Not again! The webs! He was trapped in the spider's cocoon! She was coming! The venom!

"Sam!"

Frodo violently thrashed about in the darkness, throwing off the excess blankets so tenderly tucked about his body only hours prior, and instantly bumped his head against an unexpected wooden shelf.

"Ow!"

"What!" A sleepy familiar voice came from somewhere above the lump on his aching head. Not Sam. Bilbo. "What is it, Frodo? Are you all right?"

Frodo realized with a start that he was NOT trapped inside Shelob's tunnel. Bilbo was here. "Where is Sam? How…?" He couldn't remember this place or this bed. He wasn't Bag End. "Where are we?"

"Calm down, my boy," came the gentle familiar voice. "You and I are in the ship bound for the Undying Lands. You've been a bit under the weather, so to speak." Bilbo swung his skinny legs over the upper bunk's railing and climbed down. "We moved you to the lower bunk."

Memories came back to him in a sickening flash. The white ship. Leaving dearest Sam, Merry and Pippin crying on the quay at the Grey Havens. Oh, Sam. So sorry. Days at sea. And yesterday? A blank.

Frodo was hot, despite the chill seeping in through the wooden hull. Hot and cold all at the same time. A familiar, nauseating after-effect of his own peculiar illness. That meant only one thing…

"Oh, sweet Elbereth…" Frodo groaned, holding his aching head in his hands as he swung his feet over the side of the bunk. "I did it again, didn't I?"

"Now, now, Frodo," Bilbo cooed, sat next to him and gently patted him on the back. "You had a bit of a spell yesterday, and we decided it best to keep you safe here in the cabin."

"Who all knows about this?" Frodo sighed. He was hungry. And thirsty. And hurt. And needed to relieve himself urgently. But he was mostly mortified.

"Only Elrond, Gandalf and myself actually spent time with you," Bilbo said. "But I think the whole ship knows something about what happened. Can't keep a secret on board a small ship, now can we?"

Frodo sighed again. "Guess not." He was relieved to find he was at least clothed this time. "Excuse me, Bilbo. I need to use the loo and then get some fresh air." He grabbed his Lothlorien cloak and headed down the hallway.

Frodo had no trouble finding his way in the darkness. One of the after effects of the Morgul stabbing was enhanced night vision. He rarely thought about it any more. He climbed the steep staircase and headed towards the strange contraption slung off the starboard aft railing that served as the ship's communal lavatory. It took a bit of dexterity and a certain amount of daring the first time he had attempted to relieve himself with his rear end literally hanging out above nothing but the empty sea. But Frodo found he could get used to just about anything if everyone was forced to do the same. Even Gandalf and the Lady Galadriel had to endure the 'loo.'

After taking care of business, Frodo crept down into the galley in hopes of securing a bite to eat and something resembling tea to drink. To his surprise, the Lady Galadriel herself was also in the large silent dining room subtly illumined by a single candle and the soft glow of coals in the stove box.

"Oh. Your pardon, my Lady," Frodo stammered.

"Cup of tea?" she quietly asked. The Elf-Queen handed Frodo a dainty porcelain teacup already filled with strong black tea. Frodo bowed slightly and took a sip.

'Ah. She's added honey,' he mused. "Thank you, my Lady." He found some left over bread wrapped in a napkin, crammed it into an inside pocket, and started out the door.

"Would you please join me, Frodo Baggins?" This was not a request.

He followed her faintly glowing form up the stairs and into the silence of the main deck. Dawn had not yet reached the ship, and millions of stars blazed across the firmament. Frodo's heart leapt to his mouth in wonder at the utter beauty of it all. Tiny multi-colored jewels twinkled from horizon to horizon in an endless bowl of sacred light. The sea was totally becalmed, reflecting the mighty work of Elbereth the Blessed, making the ghostly grey swan ship appear suspended within a never ending universe of heart-wrenchingly beautiful stars. Galadriel led him to sit beneath the main mast whose silver sails hung limp without a ruffle of breeze. Save for the helmsman in the rear of the ship, they were alone with the holy stars.

Frodo could tell the air was cold from the way his cup of tea steamed. But he neither felt the chill nor noticed its effect upon the Elf. She sat down beside him and offered him something to eat. Frodo had the distinct impression that he was in a sacred place, and might have also stepped outside of normal time. Whatever she offered him was also sacred. He accepted the small loaf of bread, broke it, took a bite, and then passed it back to Galadriel.

'Tell me of your troubling dream,' she said. She placed her thoughts directly inside Frodo's mind. He had expected as much. He could hide nothing from her.

'I had this last dream the week before Sam and I traveled to the Grey Havens. This dream was not quite like my other dreams of foreknowledge. This one was full of symbols. I usually do not dream of symbols. I cannot tell if what I have seen and experienced in this dream will come true or not.'

'As you learned from looking within the Mirror, not all possible paths can be taken. The path you choose to follow determines which pathways unfolds later. Fear not, and tell me your dream, Frodo.'

Frodo calmed himself and took another sip of tea. Galadriel closed her eyes. Frodo looked out to a soft, fuzzy grouping of seven stars lingering at the horizon and began.

'I am walking along the edge of the Sea near the White Towers, looking at the waves as they break along the shore. I am alone. I find a shell. It is beautiful. Pink on the inside and pearl on the outside. I place it to my ear, and hear clear ringing of bells. Sea bells. They are calling me. Calling me to cross the Sea.

'I look up and a small wooden ship has arrived on the shore. It is waiting for me. I board it. No one else is there. The shell is still in my hand, so I store it on board. The ship heads away from the shore, going West, and I loose sight of Middle Earth.

'I am at sea a long time. Finally I see land appear. Its shores are pristine and gleaming in the pure sunlight. I am happy. I leave the little ship and the seashell in a cove and run from the beach and up a grassy hill.

'I can hear voices. Voices on the wind. They sing. They laugh. I delight in their music, though I cannot understand the words, nor can I see the people. Each time I come close to the voices, they move away. They will not let me see them.

'I wander throughout the beautiful land; through the well-tended gardens filled with flowers bursting with color; through the beautiful villages and cities paved in gleaming marble and precious stones; through the orchards and farmlands groaning with ripe fruit and golden grain. Yet I see no one. All flee before me.

'I am frustrated after months or perhaps years of being alone. I enter a marsh filled with tall yellow and purple gladdens. I pluck a large yellow gladden from the marsh and climb a hill, waving it over my head like a spear or a flag. I shout. "See! Here I am! I have come! I am your lord! Come! Show yourselves!" But the voices are silenced, and I am ashamed.

'In bitter defeat I enter a dark wood filled with wild ferns and mosses. I set myself under an ancient evergreen tree, gathering old leaves and dead fern fronds to ward off the chill that now envelops me. For over a year I sit with my back against the tree, immobile. The owls and wild rabbits come by and taunt me, but I am helpless to help myself. I cannot die and yet I cannot live.

'At last a breeze blows into the wood, bringing the salt scent of the Sea, and I remember the little wooden ship and the sea-bell shell. I get up, shake off the cobwebs, leaves and twigs, and return to the cove. My ship is still there. Still waiting for me. I climb in and leave the land, setting back towards the east. As the land disappears, I again hear the lovely voices singing, and I weep bitter tears.

'My ship takes me back to my homeland. But when I walk into the villages, the people flee from me. I go up to familiar doors and knock. "Let me in! I have returned! You remember me! Please!" But none hear. None see. They flee before my face and I am alone in my own home. I will always be alone. A ghost doomed. I wake to profound sadness.'

A tear escaped from his long lashes, leaving its watery kiss reflecting the starlight. He looked into the golden lashes of the Queen, and saw a reflection of his own sadness. A small sob escaped his trembling lips.

"I am afraid." Frodo's voice caught and quivered with raw emotion. "I am terrified that I have left my home and will be found unworthy to set foot upon the shores of the Blessed Realm. I am afraid I am doomed to wander the Sea – cursed by both mortals and immortals. I am afraid I have truly become a wraith. A wraith of the Sea."

He could no longer hold back the tears. Frodo hung his head in shame at his weakness before the Queen and cried to the silent stars.

"And why do you believe you deserve this punishment, Frodo?" She spoke gently to him.

"Because I carry evil to the Blessed Realm. The evil is within me, my Lady," he managed to whisper through the tears.

"So do we all, Frodo Baggins," she calmly said. "Each of us is a mixture of good and evil. No one is purely one or the other. Not even Sauron himself was totally evil. And I have certainly done my share of evil in my time."

Frodo sniffed and looked into Galadriel's star-bedecked eyes as she continued.

"It is not a matter of whether you are good enough to deserve to enter the Undying Lands. If that were so, no one would be allowed to set foot upon its hallowed shores. All have fallen, Frodo. Every one of us has fallen short of the ideal of goodness.

"It is a matter of grace. Grace from the Valar. We cannot earn it. It is granted freely out of love. This grace was gifted to the Eldar as a birthright, since we are immortal and cannot escape the fate of Arda. This same grace has been granted to you and Bilbo as a place of resting before you claim the special grace Iluvitar has granted mortals – death."

Galadriel smiled. "Do not let your dream trouble you any longer. I need no mirror to see that this dream is only a manifestation of your uncertainty. Be at peace, Frodo Baggins of the Shire. Your doom is past, and you will find rest at this journey's end."

They sat together in silence, watching the Sun announce her arrival by imperceptibly lightening the sky until all the stars were veiled within golden light. The Sea remained calm without a breath of air stirring upon the deep.

Frodo wiped his weary eyes. He was emotionally spent. He picked up his cold teacup, bowed to the Lady, and returned the cup to the now-awakened galley. Frodo retired to the lower bunk in his cabin and slept peacefully for the first time since boarding the ship.