"Ada?"

The light whisper slipped into his dreams and Elrond drew his eyes into focus upon his daughter's smiling face. He pushed himself up and arranged the pillows at his back as Arwen placed a small tray upon his lap.

"Thank you, Titheniel." One eyebrow arched as he began to spread thick, pale honey upon fresh bread. Arwen had always been an attentive child but she also knew the value of sweetening the pot where her father was concerned. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

His daughter dimpled prettily at his use of her childhood name and settled upon the edge of her father's bed, pouring him a cup of hot mint tea. "You have been looking a little weary of late so I decided that you deserved breakfast in bed."

Elrond shook his head. "I am not sure whether to be worried that it is so obvious or pleased that you noticed." He offered her a piece of the honeyed bread and Arwen accepted it delicately, licking a stray smear of sweetness from her finger.

"Ami told me to look after you, so I am." She glanced up at her father from beneath dark lashes, essaying her most winsome expression. "Besides, this is the only time of day I can get you to myself."

Her father found his lips quirking into a smile. In his darker moments, Elrond liked to believe that he could not be swayed by her expressions, but then honesty won out. "What is it that you want to talk to me about, Arwen?"

To his surprise, her smile faded and fine white teeth worried at her bottom lip. It was an action he recognised from childhood and usually presaged a question that she was worried would draw his ire. "Ada . . . will Frodo recover? I know that he is getting better but I sensed a hesitancy in your voice when you spoke to Gandalf, yesterday."

Elrond paused to take a sip of his tea before replying. He had always sought to be honest and open with his children. With them he did not have to maintain the air of a high elven lord . . . at least most of the time. "The shard has been melted, but its components are still within him. He carried it for a long time and it is my fear that it may have affected his fea in some permanent way."

"He is a sweet and brave soul. I felt it as you worked throughout these past days, Ada. It would be pity indeed if he should continue to suffer its effects. He has endured so much." Arwen laid down her bread with her last words and her adar reached out to capture her hand.

"He is Bilbo Baggins' kin. There is strength within him that he has only just begun to plumb." He paused. Frodo had shown great fortitude already, but he would need yet more. "Do not make the mistake of thinking that might can always be measured in terms of physical prowess. There are other strengths."

Arwen met his gaze squarely and drew her fingers from his grasp. She had ever been perceptive where her father was concerned. "You have foreseen something, haven't you?"

Elrond only took another sip of his tea. Long ago he had learned to keep his visions to himself, for fear of changing the outcome. In Elrond's long experience, turning aside to try and change a vision invariably made matters worse, rather than better. It was a point he had often tried to argue with his marriage mother. Not that one ever won an argument against Galadriel.

"Ada? Do you really intend to send such an innocent against our enemy?"

"The Council has decided." Her father's tone became stern but Arwen had been raised by him to state her mind, and she was not about to give up that habit now.

"You cannot be so cruel. Frodo would not live through such a trial."

Elrond laid down his half-finished cup of tea, no longer interested in it. "There is more at stake here than the life of one hobbit. In such days as these some sacrifices must be made," he replied gravely.

But Arwen would not easily surrender her protection of the innocent. "And is Frodo Baggins to be that sacrifice? What have you seen?"

"My sight shows me little, child. And of what it does show I will keep my own council." When she would have interrupted him Elrond held up his hand to forestall her. "You have my promise that I will give him all the aid that is within my power. Do not forget that it was he who offered to carry the Ring. Frodo was not pressed to this task."

The statement only served to sharpen his daughter's gaze and Elrond's heart stumbled as the image brought memory of her mother.

"I know you, and Mithrandir, too well. You may not have asked Frodo but I have little doubt that you made your thoughts quite clear. With your skills it would be easy to manipulate him into thinking that the decision was his." As soon as she uttered those last words, Arwen wished with all her heart that she could take them back, for the naked hurt in her father's eyes told all.

"Do you think so little of me?" The words fell into a pool of silence that Arwen could see stretching to infinity if she did not act. Where had such a thought come from? Her response was desperate.

"I am sorry, Ada. I do not know what made me believe such a thing of you. You would never be so cruel. Please forgive me."

Elrond reached out a hand to smooth the lines of worry that threaded her pale brow. "You wish to protect an innocent and I am proud that you would seek to do so. I would expect no less from the daughter of Celebrian." Capturing her face between his hands he drew his daughter close and kissed her brow.

Once he knew that her heart had been soothed he continued, but his words were spoken with firmness. "The Ring must go to Mordor. That much is clear to all sane folk. And I do not think that Frodo would now be parted from it. I have seen his fea . . . the Ring begins to entwine it already."

Arwen made another plea. "But if it binds him already, will he be able to destroy it when the time comes? Surely another must be chosen?"

"My sight is unclear upon the manner of the Ring's destruction. Even if another was chosen it is likely that he would come under Its sway just as quickly. Then we would be no further forward." Elrond pushed his breakfast tray aside and rose from the bed, moving to stand before the window. But he could not evade his daughter's eye, nor the sadness in her voice.

"And, if he survives . . . what then?"

"If he does . . . the extent of our help will depend upon his own wishes. I will not impose anything upon him." He stared out at the neatly pruned rose garden, only one or two late flowers gracing the bushes. The future was so uncertain that only tentative plans could be set in place.

"And yet you would impose his continued journey?"

Her father eyes remained fixed upon his wife's garden. Each year the roses would send up just one more flower to set seed and continue the line. Just one more chance before winter arrived with frost to catch and burn the bud. The sacrifice of a delicate bloom . . . for a hope.

When her father did not reply Arwen left and Elrond laid his head against the sun warmed wood of the casement, his mind's eye seeing only too well the disappointment in her face. Was the Ring working It's spell even within the borders of Imladris . . . within his own family? Or was it simply his daughter's natural compassion? Was his own mind tainted by It's jangling tune? He closed his eyes, trying to regain his customary peace, but his thoughts continued to whirl.

The chances of Frodo surviving long enough to destroy the Ring were infinitesimal. The chances of him surviving once the Ring was thrown into the fire were quite beyond Elrond's reckoning. The bearers of the elven rings had made some plans but they could only be tentative in their nature and the fewer that knew, the fewer opportunities there were for their enemy to get wind of them.

It pained him to think that he had to keep such matters from his Titheniel, for since her mother's departure for the West the two had ever been close. He it was whom she turned to for advice and often, he would use her as a sounding board for his own decisions. But on this occasion he must shut her out . . . for the safety of Middle earth . . . and not for the first time did he wish that Vilya had never come to him.

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Glancing up at the cloudy winter sky, Elrond listened, as he had listened all of that day. The distant song of the nine walkers was fading as they left the sphere of his influence and he could feel the entire valley relax as the discord of the enemy's ring faded. In his mind's eye he saw the flickering light of their fea's. All were tainted now, a shadow winding through them. His sight could not reveal how long they would be able to resist the pull of the One Ring but it was clear that all were feeling It's influence.

He was drawn again to the shining soul that was Frodo Baggins. Light and dark blended and swirled, the sweet and steady melody of his fea beginning to take on a minor key. Would the Ringbearer be able to retain some memory of that song, or would it be lost and forgotten to all but Elrond?

The keeper of Vilya gathered up the remembrance of that mithril strand of melody and held it close.

TBC