Day Eighteen: The Bow of Manwe

The ship was underway again, with a fresh breeze blowing directly behind, filling its sparkling silver sails to the straining point and making the ropes crackle and groan. Frodo sat astride Shadowfax in the forecastle's open-air paddock in the front of the ship. It was as high up as he could go, since he declined to climb ropes on a swaying ship in the middle of an endless ocean, and his left shoulder was aching again.

"I'm looking for the dolphins," he whispered to the great white stallion. "They were here two days ago. Have you seen them?"

Shadowfax shook his mane and gazed steadily at the carved swan's neck and head in front. Frodo sighed and laid his cheek against the horse's warm proud neck. "I miss them." Shadowfax snorted and shifted his weight from left to right.

"You miss them too?" Frodo wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but it seemed that the stallion briefly nodded his head. "Thought so."

"Ahead, captain!" A cry came from the crow's nest high in the maze of ropes and sails of the main mast. Frodo looked up to see a golden-haired elf pointing toward the horizon. The lookout's long straight locks whipped about his face in the wind.

"What do you see?" Cirdan's strong, clear voice rang out in the stiff breeze. Many elves began to climb up out of the below decks, curiosity clearly showing in their beautiful faces.

"Colors, sir," came the reply. "Strange colors. Dead ahead the air looks awash in red."

"Do you see land or fire or smoke?"

"No sir. No smoke. The air is clear. It might be a mist or a change in the very air, if my eyes do not deceive me. It wavers and shimmers as if under a spell."

Soon everyone including the cook was on deck or up in the rigging. All eyes strained towards the horizon.

Within half an hour they were enveloped in it. A beautiful ruby mist surrounded the ship, turning the water a strange purple and causing the silver threads woven throughout the sails to flash crimson and pink. The sun was directly overhead and even she appeared more red than gold.

"Strike sails! Tie off the rudder. Let the air steer the ship. I want soundings taken every two minutes!" Cirdan handed the helm over to Caragil and threaded his way through the uneasy crowd to the front of the vessel next to Frodo and Shadowfax. Sails were gathered and quickly lashed to the cross timbers.

Gandalf, Galadriel, Elrond and Bilbo had joined Frodo in the fore, peering into the disquieting mist that rapidly thickened into a cold red fog. Elrond lifted Bilbo to sit up behind Frodo on the horse. Frodo clutched Shadowfax's mane as Bilbo shifted to look backwards towards the aft.

"I can hardly see the swan wings," Bilbo gasped. The group turned around and saw that it was true. The color was so thick that Cirdan could barely make out Caragil standing at the rudder.

"Silence!" Cirdan frowned in concentration as everyone became still. Only the steady wind and the sound of the waves was heard.

"Twenty fathoms plus," someone called out from the aft.

"Speed?"

"Five knots," came the faint reply from the helm.

Cirdan yelled up towards the crow's nest. "What is visible from the nest?"

"All is in mists, my Captain."

"Did you hear that?" Frodo turned and whispered to Bilbo.

"Hear what?"

"Shhhh…. Listen. It's coming from above."

Frodo heard it again. A faint clinking noise of metal upon metal and the creaking of leather stretching and relaxing. That was impossible. They were eighteen days at sea. No one aboard ship wore leather or carried weapons. Frodo suddenly felt the hairs on his neck rise. He thought someone was walking past his right leg. The tiny hairs on Frodo's arm stood on end and he felt a cold current pass through his left shoulder. Shadowfax nervously stamped his forelegs and snorted.

"What?" Bilbo started and turned about, trying to locate the invisible army.

Frodo could now see the crimson fog thickening into indistinct spectral forms. He could not tell if they were Man, Elf, Hobbit or Orc, but they were definitely there. And definitely dead. And carrying weapons and shields and banners; all broken, bloody and rusted, and trailing behind their weary shuffling feet.

Galadriel placed her slender fingers over Frodo's left hand and twined them into the nervous stallion's mane. Her ring glowed faintly in the ruby light. "Be at peace, my friends," she calmly said. "They are shadows on their way from the battle fields. Their anger is spent and they will not harm you or your kin."

The ship was pushed along with the current as the helmsman methodically called out the speed and a yeoman called out the depts. The dreadful red shades gradually faded away, and the mist brightened to gold.

Gandalf appeared to be aflame. He glanced at Frodo and smiled. "I didn't think of yellow as being your color, but you wear it well."

Frodo glanced down at his shirt and was startled to find it had taken on a distinctive golden hue. So had his skin! He looked up in alarm.

"Don't worry, you vain little hobbit," Gandalf laughed. "Your eyes are still blue as robin's eggs, which looks quite disconcerting peering out from a yellow face."

"Twenty fathoms plus," came the mantra from the back of the ship. The sea looked like molten brass with frothy copper waves. The air tasted metallic and slightly gritty; as if the very air had been dug up from the earth and roasted in iron fires.

Galadriel released her hand, stepped back, and bowed deeply. Frodo could see nothing that would have caused her to do such a thing. Then Elrond placed a hand to his chest and also offered a formal bow to the golden air, even if it appeared to Frodo that the Elf-Lord was reluctant to do so. Every Elf on the ship followed suit and offered a brief, formal bow. Not wanting to offend whatever it was which evidently was going by, Frodo and Bilbo also offered a small bow to the golden air.

"Gandalf?" Frodo whispered after the silence was again broken with a calling of the speed. "What just happened? I did not see or hear anything."

Gandalf the Gold smiled. "We just passed through a company of dwarvish spirits. It was very gracious of Galadriel to make peace with them. And I am most pleased that the rest of the company followed suit. That should cause some discussion in the Halls!"

"The Halls of Mandos?" Bilbo asked.

"In deed," Gandalf replied.

The fog morphed into green, and Frodo immediately fell ill to his stomach. Shadowfax must have felt the same thing, as he began to sweat and shake his head. Gandalf lifted Bilbo and Frodo from the nervous stallion and set them atop hay bales. The two hobbits and the steed moaned. It was pitiful to hear the horse's distress and see the sickly luminescent green cast to the adrenalin foam now forming on his alabaster skin.

Even the elves began to be affected by the sickly green mist. Some turned their heads and closed their eyes. A few retreated down below decks. Frodo was surprised to hear more than a few actually running to the rails and becoming throwing up. The emerald fog rolled violently in wave after wave of its own putridness, and stank.

"Twenty…fathoms…. Oh, sweet Elbereth…"

'Dead Marshes.' The thought bubbled up from deep within his suppressed memories and popped unwanted into Frodo's head. 'These are the corpses from the Dead Marshes. They have finally been released.' He gagged at the stench as something rotten floated past his bowed head. "Close your eyes, Bilbo," Frodo managed to utter through the nausea. "Do not look."

Moans and cries of sorrowful recognition arose from all around him. Frodo looked through clenched lashes to see Cirdan standing as rigid as a mast, tears streaming down his cheeks. The Elf-Lord's silver hair was stained a putrid olive and streaks of sickly jade washed over him again and again like waves casting bloated corpses upon a lonely seastrand. Frodo could not help but watch as one thickness in the mists coalesced into the form of a proud, tall male Elf clad in decomposed armor from the First Age. The wasted specter reached out its rotten and incorporeal arm to Cirdan.

'Father?'

Frodo threw up.

How long they endured the green, no one could tell. Eventually the lime fog darkened to blue and the mantra was retaken.

"Five knots steady, Captain."

"Twenty fathoms plus, Captain."

"Steady as she goes," came the reply.

Frodo found he could stand up and open his eyes again. The horror was past. Calm, serene blue descended from the sky and kissed the ocean, washing the horrible green away as a warm spring shower melts away snow. The swan ship floated within a world of tranquil blue. Peace filled the air and manifested itself in laughter upon the wind.

It sparkled with every nuance of joy Frodo had ever known. Carefree and spacious. Free from worries and hardships. Unbounded and given without reservation. Purity and innocence.

Tears suddenly started to Bilbo's eyes. He fumbled to find something in his pocket.

"What's wrong, Bilbo?" Frodo gently rubbed his cousin's shoulders.

"Children," he sniffled and brought out his handkerchief. "We are hearing the voices of dead children."

Gandalf gently knelt beside the hobbit. His face reflected the same pale blue seen in Frodo's eyes. "Not all these voices are the dead who travel to the Halls of Mandos, my friend. Some are on their journey in the other direction. To Middle Earth. To be born. Do not shed tears of sorrow; only tears of joy. Learn from them, if you can."

Bilbo nodded and quieted. Frodo hugged his beloved uncle in a tight embrace, and they sat together on top of the hay.

"Twenty fathoms steady."

"Six knots, my Captain."

"Sir! The mists are breaking!" The crewman from the crow's nest fairly shouted with joy.

Frodo noticed a faint tinge of violet mixed with the blue. He suddenly felt sleepy. Very sleepy. He could not keep his eyes open.

"Oh no you don't."

Frodo was startled awake. "What?" Gandalf was shaking him and Elrond had a bemused expression on his face.

"Uh, sorry. I do not know what came over me," Frodo stammered and stood up to shake the last bits of sleep from his brain.

"Don't feel bad," Elrond said. "Look at Shadowfax."

The Lord of All Horses was standing absolutely still, his head hanging low and brushing the hay scattered beneath him. Not even his tail moved. He was snoring. Loudly!

"Good thing the Eldar do not sleep as mortals," Elrond quietly said, and headed off to disappear below decks. The mists had faded into nothingness, and the ship was again under full sail and on course.

Galadriel smiled and reached for Bilbo's hand. "What shall we have for lunch, Mr. Baggins?" They disappeared into the ship's belly.

Cirdan remained with Frodo as everyone else wandered off. "My Lord? Are you all right?" Frodo quietly asked.

The stately elf grimly nodded.

"Did you know that shadow?" Frodo inquired.

"That was my father." Cirdan swallowed hard and sighed. "He and I went to war with the Last Alliance. I lost him outside the Black Gates. We thought he had returned to the Halls many ages ago, but nothing was ever heard from him. We did not know his spirit had been trapped in Sauron's marshes these past three thousand years. The look in his eyes! The torture of the water! Alas, my heart!"

"He is free now," Frodo quietly said, "as are all the others lost in that battle. You will see them again."

The captain went down on one knee and took the startled hobbit's hands, clasping them tightly.

"Thank you, Frodo Baggins of the Shire. Elf-friend indeed! You have returned to us those we thought lost forever. I see now it was through Sauron's destruction that the curse was finally lifted. The Eldar owe you much, Ringbearer. More than we could possibly give. What would you have me do? What can I do to show you my gratitude and thanks?"

Frodo hesitated, then steeled himself.

"You are the master shipbuilder. You know the hidden paths and secret ways of Middle Earth and of the Straight Path to the Blessed Realm. You are beloved of Osse and Ulmo. If it is within your power, please return one day to Middle Earth and bring the other Ringbearer back with you. I left Sam behind, for his time was not yet accomplished for this journey. But when his time is come, please go back and bring to me my friend."

"Frodo Baggins," Cirdan solemnly said, "I swear I shall do as you ask, even if it requires I die in petition before the Valar themselves."

"They have already granted the request." Gandalf stood beside the peacefully sleeping horse and smiled. "Sam will join you soon enough, Frodo."