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. In this chapter, I assume he actually could be quite capable of it, given practice, once arrived in the Undying Lands. If this bothers you, I'm sorry it does, but I hope you can simply enjoy the story. :)
Chapter XII Notes: I may not always be able to post a chapter of this fic every week, but I'm hoping I can update more frequently than once every few *years*! Since I've got a terribly busy weekend ahead, I thought I might write and post this a little earlier than I usually do. I hope you will enjoy it. :)
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 XII: Song for the Shadows
Celebrian's voice sang through the darkness, music in her every word, her voice so clear that Frodo could discern it even through the pain and cold. Shadows still pressed in on every side, shadows everywhere … but his heart warmed at her words, and he reached back, through the darkness, and fought with a will he had not found since the dark days of Mordor.
A chill ran through him, and he trembled, but this time he caught his breath, and drew it in, and forced himself not to panic – and he was rewarded with the new, already-so-beloved voice.
Tithen min! I am here. Hold on, my little one. Do you think it would help if you had something else hot to drink?
Frodo willed himself to hold fast against the waves of chill. It was difficult, but Celebrian's voice calmed him, infusing him with fresh strength. And – for the first time in all his anniversaries – the idea of something to drink sounded actually – heartening.
Yes, he replied. I could try. I would like to try for you.
He felt the catch of her own breath. Then open your eyes for me, she called in a warm voice. Open your eyes and keep them here, with us. You will live through this day, and endure to have new pleasures, or else pleasures long-forgotten.
Frodo struggled against darkness so oppressive it threatened to hold his eyes closed, poison his old wounds, stop his breath – but – he felt Celebrian's hold on him, strong as his own mother's had been the time he had fallen out of the swing, and she had gathered him close. Stronger even was this, a power behind it such as he had sensed only with Galadriel and Elrond – power, power and virtue all wrapped up together.
He felt his eyelids fluttering, his eyelashes brushing his cheek.
With an effort, he forced them open.
Celebrian's smile greeted him. Over her shoulder he could see Galadriel, and the scent of sandalwood pleasantly close at hand assured him that Elrond, too, was close.
"There is my little one," Celebrian whispered, and in her voice flowed such love that Frodo wished he were strong enough to embrace her. "So brave. So brave you are, Frodo."
Brave? The feeling the word evoked astonished Frodo. He was not brave, surely. He had not managed to drop the Ring into the fire. Who would call him brave? And yet, watching Celebrian's face, gazing into her eyes, he could tell she meant it with all her heart.
Celebrian took a small feeding-cup from someone – another elf? – and touched the spout to Frodo's lips. "There, tithen min," she said tenderly. "It is a posset of white wine and milk and sugar, warmed just a little. Try and drink."
Fighting a sensation of faintness, Frodo nursed at the cup. It was like the possets he had had in Imladris. The recognition and surprise must have registered in his eyes, for Elrond leaned in, smiling.
"The recipe we used in the Last Homely House was developed many centuries past by Celebrian," he explained. "Long before she sailed, she was my chief aide, and quite adept at designing recipes for the unwell. She studied with Narien and Mornaduial, who have prepared this for you, but it was she and she alone who developed this particular recipe."
"It's good," Frodo said, after another sip. Celebrian's face lit up, and he felt almost like smiling. But the muscles felt weary. Anniversaries were exhausting, and terrifying beyond words. But this time….
He turned his mind to Celebrian's, though he had no idea what he was doing, or how the two of them could converse without speech.
What you said before, he ventured nervously, do you mean it? Do you really want to be my mother?
Warmth flooded back, enveloping him so that he felt almost as if he were wrapped in a blanket of sunlight and starlight. Of course I mean it. Tell me now what you wish for, what your mother can do to bring you comfort. Morning approaches. Soon the day will come, and you have passed a difficult night already. Tell me what would please you on this painful day.
Frodo wondered at his fortune. How could he, a hobbit of the Shire, be blessed with a second mother, much less a great lady of the Firstborn?
Anything? he ventured.
Anything, came her reply.
Then … then I should like for you to stay by me. I know it is much to hold me. But – please, if you can stay, let me but be close enough to hold your hand, and feel your touch, for only then do I feel safe.
Celebrian stroked his curls and kissed his brow. It is not much for me. It is my joy. I will not leave you, not until you are ready. And that need not be today. She offered him a little more of the posset, and he sipped. It tasted so good. Nothing had ever tasted good to him on an anniversary before. Every autumn and spring, he faced days of complete distaste for food, nausea, an inability to keep nourishment on his stomach even when he tried. But this – this felt different. The posset did not make him feel like vomiting. Instead, it seemed to soothe him, to bring such comfort as he had not known since –
Since his mother had rocked him, and fed him at her breast.
Could you take a little nourishment later, do you think? Celebrian asked gently. Milk will be enough for now. But Elrond tells me you have taken so little for so many days that there is danger in that, too, not only from the shadows you sense pressing in on you. There is more than one way for pain to kill someone, tithen min, and one way is to induce a person to neglect his body's needs. Will you let me feed you something of your choice?
It seemed an overwhelming prospect. Frodo could not recall having been very interested in food on his anniversaries. The day they had travelled in October, he had forced down limited travel rations, distressing his companions, and what he had eaten he had later lost in the bushes when it came back up. Food had been of so little interest to him the past several months. He had eaten what was necessary to keep him from growing so weak he could not finish the Red Book or travel to the Havens, and that was the extent of his effort.
But Celebrian's touch and voice had stirred in him a desire, at last, to live. He wanted to let her be his mother. He wanted to be her little one for as long as he possibly could. So long, especially since his return to the Shire, he had had to be the adult. Sam and Rose had looked after him, and looked after him well, but they still regarded him as the eldest in the house, which he was, and deferred many decisions of import to him – sometimes even decisions he would rather not have had to consider, such as what they ought to make for supper or tea or the next day's breakfast. It had grown wearing, for all that he understood they asked out of love and compassion. They had not understood, not even dear Sam, how weary he felt, or how lost and forlorn.
He had long wanted someone to care for him, ever since his journey. And now, it seemed, he had found someone – and not just anyone, but someone who understood some of his pain.
Frodo? Tithen min, are you all right?
Frodo managed a tiny smile.
Anything, he replied. Please surprise me. I want food to become a surprise again, at least for now. I don't think I could eat anything very complicated – I couldn't bear a sandwich or anything else I should have to chew – but – I know you will choose well. I would like to have a surprise.
Then a surprise you shall have! There was a note of amusement in Celebrian's tone, but it was a delighted amusement, not laughter or mockery. To Frodo it sang of pure joy. She tilted the cup to his lips once more, and he finished the posset, surprised at how perfectly portioned it had been. That had not felt like too much to swallow at one time. Would you like to rest now? she asked. I will keep watch. I will sing to keep the nightmares at bay, as much as I can, and if they trouble you, I will be here to hold you. You shall sleep in my lap, rocked to rest, and when dawn has long since kissed the horizon, I shall have a surprise for you to try.
Surprisingly, Frodo discovered that he did indeed feel drowsy. Yes, he replied. I am so tired! I think I could try to – to sleep –
Almost at once, he felt himself drifting into slumber … but not before he heard the soft sound of Celebrian's singing, and had he felt up to setting the translation down in basic, non-poetic form devoid of the rhyme he could hear in the elvish words, it would have been a song something like this ….
Songs aplenty have been sung
of heroes renowned of old,
But none can tell the courage of
the hobbits, small and merry.
They love their food, they love their drink,
They love their mushrooms so.
They love each other as few races do,
And peace is in their land.
Now let me tell a tale to you
of a little hobbit maid
named Lily-white, whose lot was that
of a sweet-maker skilled at games …
That was the last thing Frodo remembered, for sleep overtook him. His final thought before forgetting all was that he was terribly grateful his new mother had chosen a fairer and brighter song than any tales of heroes, hobbit or otherwise.
-to be continued-