Title: What May Come
Author: Frodo Baggins of Bag End (FrodoAtBagEnd), AK A Febobe (FBoBE)
E-mail: febobe at yahoo dot com
Characters: Celebrian, Frodo, Elrond; Gandalf, Galadriel, 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. If I write any chapters which are tougher in future, I'll upgrade the rating on the whole thing.
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 continue a story I began many, many years ago; I had never planned for it to officially "end," but rather to be an ongoing fic, and yet I had never planned to trail off at the point that I left it for so long. And 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 in hopes that you, too, might enjoy it. 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. 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!
And yes, I - like some other authors - assume that elves are capable of mind-to-mind unspoken communication. I am also assuming that as a Ringbearer, Frodo might also have some limited ability to hear them calling thus to him, and might perhaps be able to answer in like fashion. If this bothers you, I'm sorry it does, but I hope you can simply enjoy the story. :)
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 X: Pulled from the Shadows
Frodo's fea wandered, lost in the shadows, one taunting whisper after another hissing into his mind. Help! he called. I'm lost! I'm frightened!
But the cruel whispers closed in, surrounding him. You will never feel safe again, they hissed. You will never BE safe again.
No, he cried. No! You're wrong!
But it was too much. He felt so cold, so cold it hurt like knives piercing him. The back of his neck burned with an icy fire, and his side hurt so where he had been whipped. He cried out again and again, his cries growing weaker each time, until at last he sank. The hissing whispers drowned out the voice he had heard calling to him.
But suddenly…
Frodo! Frodo, we are here. Lasto beth nin! Tolo dan na ngalad!
Was that – Elrond's voice? The hissing grew louder, but above the din Frodo could hear Elrond – and – was it - ?
Frodo! You must fight! I know you are weary. But we are here to aid you.
Yes! That was – the Lady Galadriel! Frodo stirred weakly, but he felt as though he were tied up in spider-silk all over again, as if he could not move, could not speak, could not even breathe….
Frodo! Tithen min, help me find you. I am coming for you.
Out of the shadows, he saw the faintest hint of light.
And then – it grew stronger. And stronger.
Frodo, I am coming. Hold on! I know you are cold, little one. I know you are afraid. So much light and goodness and joy waits to receive you. There is light aplenty in the world. The darkness knows and fears that. Listen to me! You are much loved, and there are memories ahead to be made, happy memories you will enjoy in years to come.
The voice was still unfamiliar, and yet not so – it was – Lady Celebrian, the wife of Elrond, wasn't it?
And the light was drawing ever closer, though it had to fight its way forcibly through shadows.
Suddenly Frodo heard all three voices grow louder, rising in unison song. It was an elven tongue, but he was too overwhelmed and exhausted to translate what he heard. It might have been a children's song, for all he knew, but – it did not sound like one. It sounded like a hymn to Elbereth. It sounded like a song of blessing.
And the light grew brighter and brighter. Suddenly it enveloped him. He felt the spider-silk sliced through, felt still cold but not in imminent danger of freezing to death, felt he could move, and speak, and breathe. But he could only cry at first, so relieved he felt. Still miserable, but – there was light, light in the darkness….
#
A gasp, then another – and Frodo opened his eyes to find himself in someone's arms. It was Celebrian, and she held him in a great rocking-chair, and though her face was whiter than milk, she was smiling brightly. Tears wet her face as she bent to kiss Frodo's forehead. He could feel the warmth of her lips.
"You have come back to us," she said in a trembling voice.
Frodo tried to smile, but it was difficult. He still felt miserable, and even that small effort seemed to consume so much strength. He recognized others: Galadriel stood beside her daughter, one hand on her shoulder, the other over Frodo's injured shoulder. Elrond stood on the other side of the chair, one hand upon Frodo's leg. Both of them were pale, though not so pale as Celebrian.
"Daughter, I can take him," Galadriel offered, but Celebrian shook her head fiercely.
"No," she said. "I cannot let him go. I will not."
Galadriel opened her mouth as if to speak again, but Elrond reached over to touch her arm. "You of all people should remember how Bri is," he said softly. "I dare not interfere. But we may stay here with her, in case there is need once more."
Galadriel nodded and knelt beside the chair. Frodo blinked. His vision was clear much of the time, but now and again it seemed to go dark.
"Did you – " he managed, after a moment, " – how – did you – reach me?"
"We can speak of it later. When you are better." Celebrian's pale face, when Frodo could see it, looked strained and exhausted, but overjoyed. "I have asked for warm milk with honey. It will arrive very shortly. And later, there will be broth. You must try and swallow a little."
Frodo shuddered. He still felt completely uninterested in food. But she had come into the darkness and pulled him out herself. Together the three of them had brought him back, saved him from the shadows, but – it was she who had come in after him.
"I'll try," he murmured weakly.
"That is all anyone could ask of you," Celebrian said with a smile, bending to kiss his brow again. "Ai, little one, I know you were frightened. But we will not leave you. You will never again be without aid, without food or drink or light. I promise you that."
Relieved, Frodo closed his eyes. He still felt pain all over, especially his side and the back of his neck. His throat ached, as it had when the orcs poured that horrible burning drink down it. His feet hurt.
But he felt safe. Safer than he had felt since he had moved into Bag End with Bilbo, and his cousin and guardian had assured him that he was no longer an orphan. Bilbo could not replace his parents, nor did Bilbo try. The elves could not replace the living and the peace stolen from him. But Frodo knew now that he would not have to face the darkness alone ever again.
He would try to drink some warm milk with honey. He wasn't sure it would stay where it belonged, but he would try. For Galadriel, who twice now had reached out to him in the darkness. For Elrond, the greatest of healers, who had always tried to help him whenever he could. But most of all, for Celebrian, the bravest soul he had ever known, who had begun to sing – and Galadriel and Elrond joined in as before. It was the song he had heard in the darkness. The song that had helped Celebrian pull him back.
She came into the darkness after me, and broke through the shadows, he thought. How can I not at least try to drink for her?
-to be continued-