Title: What May Come
Author: Frodo Baggins of Bag End (FrodoAtBagEnd)
E-mail: febobe at yahoo dot com
Characters: Celebrian, Frodo, Elrond; Gandalf, Bilbo, various others.
Rating: PG-13 or so. It's probably just PG-13, generally, but I don't know angstiness and h/c level for every single chapter yet. This chapter rated PG-13.
Summary: Frodo's healing in the West is not as he had hoped. . .and yet it is more; in Tol Eressea he finds a new home and family, and a different kind of healing. . . .
Feedback: Welcomed. Constructive only, please. . .no flaming.
Story Notes: I am delighted to finally publish a story that I began work on more than a year and a half ago, though to this day I cannot say it will not undergo further revision before some final version. However, it is very dear to my heart, and I thought I might go ahead and share it here as a work-in-progress - open to you all the drafts, notes, etc. - of the past many months and hope that you, too, will enjoy them. The interpretation, of course, is purely mine and was touched upon in "The Memory of Taste" (original publication of first chapter 1/18/03). . .others may disagree, or may share this view, but this is an old project of mine and simply a view I hold. If you wish to hear my reasoning, please ask, and I'll dig up links to my LJ comments dicussing the tale or engage in a discussion with you. But I hope that whether my rationale is important to you or not, you will enjoy the story. . .I don't think it's necessary to know the reasoning behind my thought pattern in advance to find pleasure in the tale. :) At least I hope it isn't!

Warning: pure fluff (sometimes angst-filled, sometimes not) written for its own sake. It's not intended to have a grand plot. Lots of Frodo h/c in this, though, so if you like that, you'll enjoy this, especially if you like food detail! If you don't. . .my apologies; to each her (or his) own taste. :) I make absolutely no claims whatsoever that this is a canonically thematic portrayal of the West, though I have attempted to follow some canonical points, at least, of what we know, including that there was never a guarantee of how Frodo's healing would come, if it did, but that he might seek it there. . .as well as in some other matters, such as some of the book's characters actually being there at this time. Beyond those little points, I'm not even attempting to create a canonically purist story. This is purely for pleasure.

Part VI Notes: An extra-extra-extra-special thanks to all those who have reviewed thus far!

A word of reassurance for those who still worry. . .as I've promised, no, this one is not a deathfic; I have no plans for the Ringbearer to expire. . .so please don't fret!

For permission to reproduce any part of this fanfic, please e-mail your request to febobe at yahoo dot com.

DISCLAIMER: The characters, places, and story of The Lord of the Rings are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and consequently of the Tolkien Estate, with select rights by Tolkien Enterprises. This piece appears purely as fanfiction and is not intended to claim ownership of Tolkien's work in any way. Please e-mail me if you have concerns. Original characters, such as Mornaduial and Narien, are my own work; please do not use my creations in your work. Please respect my original contributions. Furthermore, please do NOT consider any treatments or remedies within this story safe or effective for use: these are included as fictitious hobbit care, not real human medical practice, and while some can indeed be traced to actual therapeutic practices, could be dangerous. Please consult your health care professional before treating yourself or others for any condition or symptom.

Part VI: Summer, Spring, and Autumn

Frozen can't move can't breathe so cold so cold the Ring the Ring so cold I don't understand hurts don't leave me don't leave me hurts so can't breathe hurts hurts hurts so cold so cold cold cold. . .

Frodo felt his breath coming with difficulty, too laboured for comfort. He struggled against what seemed like mouthfuls of chilled air, almost crying out as the cold seemed to invade his chest like knives.

And then. . .just as suddenly. . .it began to recede, though he could not understand at first why. Grateful for the ease in breathing, he merely nestled against the warmth as he felt himself being eased from one pair of arms - Elrond's familiar, graceful touch - into another. This was someone new - someone smaller, but no less strong, and certainly no less warm; indeed, Frodo felt the urge to snuggle against his new caregiver, and blushed as he managed to open his eyes only to find himself cradled by Lady Celebrian herself. But she smiled, and where Elrond was as kind as summer, she seemed as gentle as spring - a fair lady, silver-haired, with depthless eyes that seemed full of unspeakable sorrow and fathomless joy all at once.

"Ssshh, Frodo. Half a moment and we will make you more comfortable. Do you feel you could take something to eat or drink?"

His stomach knotted at the thought of anything more than liquids. He had not been able to eat since that night on the ship, the night when Lady Galadriel had given him Celebrian's childhood quilt. . .which, he found, he now felt rather shy about being wrapped in beneath his cloak and extra blankets. But it was the only thing which seemed to warm him, and he had had little other comfort since that terrible night. He did feel thirsty, though, and for this reason hesitated.

"Perhaps some soup? I have a little broth ready, and there is apple juice, or white wine if you wish."

Soup? At once he nodded eagerly. "Yes. . .yes, please. . .I would like that very much."

She smiled tenderly, and bent to kiss his brow before glancing up with a nod to her husband. Without a word spoken aloud between them, he came, taking Frodo back from her arms and settling cautiously on - yes, a large bed.

"I shall return soon with your meal, Frodo."

Reassured, Frodo nodded, relaxing as Elrond began to unwrap him, easing him gingerly out of his travelling-clothes. It felt a tremendous relief when the elven lord began sponging him down lightly with warm water, bathing face and hands, body and limbs, patting all dry so that he was left feeling refreshed and calmed as a night-shirt was slipped onto his small frame.

"No doubt Celebrian will prepare the bath for you later; I am sure you will enjoy a soak. But for now, it is time to eat and rest."

Frodo nodded shyly, feeling suddenly awkward in such a great house. "I. . .I. . .please, I hate to impose upon your hospitality. . . ."

"Frodo, it is no imposition." Elrond smiled kindly. "My wife and I wish to have you as our guest, and while you are unwell it is important that you remain somewhere that you can be tended closely. There are healers here, but we would not abandon you to a healers' hall, pleasant as it is, when we can provide what you need. Healers will come here, and they will help us look after you, but you shall live here, and enjoy all the comforts we can provide for you. And that does, I assure you, include all your meals - no one will expect you to eat only three times a day, or less!"

Frodo laughed weakly as he was laid against the pillows; he was dizzy, and it felt good to lie down in a bed again at last. "I'm not very hungry these days, somehow. . . ."

"That, my friend, we must try to remedy. You need not eat large amounts at each meal; a little will suffice until we can coax your stomach into remembering that it belongs to a hobbit." Smiling, Elrond tucked him in warmly, keeping Celebrian's quilt nestled about him beneath the soft sheets and fluffy down comforter. "That, too, will be a part of your care."

"Here we are."

Frodo looked up to find Lady Celebrian setting a tray gingerly on the bed beside him, her husband rising to offer her his place. At once she accepted, smiling like spring sunshine as she began to uncover small dishes. He felt suddenly relieved: these were not even ordinary-sized dishes, and he began to think that perhaps he might be able to swallow some of the contents. She began to uncover what seemed most undaunting: a feeding-cupful of fragrant broth that smelled lightly of chicken and mushrooms. . .a small cup of apple juice. . .and even a miniature glass partly filled with white wine.

"Perhaps some help?"

Her gentle offer was not unwelcome: even Frodo had to admit that he had little chance of successfully holding anything without a spill, given that he could not even sit up unaided. Shyly he allowed Celebrian to ease him up, beginning to arrange pillows cautiously behind his back and head.

Perhaps home was not so far away as he had feared.

-to be continued-