Realizing Attraction

            Frodo Baggins looked up into the face of the Maia who’d attended upon him that morning.  Why is it that those who seek to aid my healing always bring me here to this cove? he asked.

            The Maia brightened.  “It is within the Sea that the echoes of the Song of Creation can best be heard, here within this world of Arda.  We have learned that hearing that Song helps in healing the hearts and minds of those who suffered such as you did within Ennor, as does bathing within the Sea.  But to take those who need healing to the coast itself is not always best, as the wildness of the Sea too oft proves to beget fear in those we would see recover their joy.  So, we bring them here first, where the surrounding stone softens the rhythm and strength of the waves and strengthens the desire to be cleansed of remembered fear and anger.”  She smiled.  “Certainly you have appeared to respond well to this place.”

            Frodo smiled in return.  Considering how many years I have been brought here by you and your fellows, by Lord Elrond and his lady, and Livwen and her father, I have come to love it indeed.   He looked upward to the landward side where Livwen and her family lived on the lands of her mother’s orchard above the cliff.  I would stand on the headlands there, with Bilbo ere he left us, and gaze back east toward the mortal lands when we felt lonely for those we love there.

            He turned his attention eastward, and his expression became thoughtful.  I have been told that this was a volcano, a mountain of fiery stone as was Orodruin.  Yet I do not feel here the dread Sam and I knew as we sought to come to it.  There is not the threat of violent destruction we sensed as we approached Mount Doom, there in Mordor.

            The Maia now switched to osanwë to match Frodo’s communication.  No, that will not be perceived here, sweet Iorhael.  This volcano was brought into being in cooperation between Lord Ulmo and Lord Aulë so as to provide those of the Children who could and would come to the Undying Lands a vehicle mete to their needs in drawing them westward, out of Ennor.  Once the island was complete, the top of the mountain that was formed in creating the island was blown away so that it would not endanger those who would house here in the time it would take to complete the move.  Once the island was settled here off the shores of Aman, the waters of the Sundering Sea filled the hollow that was left as the mountain lost its ability to erupt once more. 

            She examined his face before continuing:  The mountain that was used in forming this island had what appeared to be a violent life and ending, yes.  But think of it as the birth pangs experienced by the Mother as a so-desired Child is brought into the Light.  The pain of the birthing is wiped away once the Child is successfully presented to the warmth of Life.  This is the remaining caldera of a once active volcano that was glad to give up the potential for further eruptions once the island was fully formed.

            As for Orodruin—the malevolence of our late brother tortured the mountain past endurance, until at last with the destruction of his abomination it could shrug off his power over it for good and at last find its peace.  And know this—Orodruin rejoiced to know that in its last throes of agony good would come of its ash for those whose destruction and domination its Master had sought.

            Frodo nodded thoughtfully.  Indeed, he shared.  We were told that the greatness of the harvests that year was due to the fall of its ash upon the fields of Gondor and elsewhere enriching the soil.  Even there in Minas Tirith the ash was gathered by a master glassblower to use in the creation of bowls and cups of unbelievable beauty.  In spite of his will to harm, Sauron nevertheless gave us sweeter fruits and more beautiful glassware than he could have imagined.  He laughed, sharing images of finding his friends had filled his bath with strawberries and cream to bring him to laughter, helping him to briefly put aside his grief and shock at what had happened to those who’d fallen victim to Sauron’s will and his own part in the death of Sméagol.

            For a time the two remained in silent companionship.  At last Frodo looked up with a question.  Why was I brought here again on this day?

            The Maia’s smile was soft as she again spoke in words.  “Where was it you were found this morning, Frodo Baggins?”

            He sighed aloud.  Sailing westward once more, toward Aman.

            “Are you so eager to find your ending now, our beloved Iorhael?  You know that as a mortal you would not linger long should you come so close to the shore there.”

            His expression was rueful.  Not really—not before Sam can choose whether he will indeed come to join me,

            “I see.”  The following silence was thoughtful.   You have been granted the grace given to Elros and his descendants to offer back your life to Eru when you choose—within reason, of course.  But that time of reason is not yet upon you.  Is there nothing other than the coming of Ir-Panthael that you should wish to experience ere you leave us?

            He stared momentarily at the sparkle of the water within the cove before looking up into her shining face.  “To be a father,” he said aloud.

            Even as a Maia this startled her. 

            He continued, again turning to osanwë:  I have been told that it is through the sacrifice of my innocence that I have come to be named one of the Wise.  You have reminded me that my life came at the cost of my mother’s birth pangs.  And it is only at the sacrifice of my virginity that I could hope to see a child of my body be born.

            But I am already of greater age than most of my people reach.  Marriage was denied me when I dwelt in the Mortal Lands, for Pearl threw me over, fearful our children might be born with a weak heart, or that she might lose children as my mother had ere they could survive their births.  Even my own survival was a wonder to the midwife and healers who knew me when I was but a bairn and faunt.

            “And was there no other woman of your people—or others—that you might have taken to wife?

            He shook his head before she finished her question.  Oh, there were those who at one time desired me, or whom I found stirred my heart.  But when I bore the Ring upon my person It sought to make me take them by force, or they had already given their hearts to others beyond me, or I was too far below their stations with no right to seek to court them    Again he sighed aloud.  Or, he added, after we returned to the Shire I would not think to court or marry as I knew that I would shortly enough leave my life there.  I did not wish to leave one I had loved enough to take to myself already a widow before she could properly rejoice to have been my wife.  It would not have been fair to her.

            “And your heart has not been stirred by any here upon Eressëa?”

            His resulting smile was twisted with pain.  One only, but for most of my time here she was but a child.  Only now is Livwen old enough to be considered an adult, if yet still young in the eyes of her family.  But, as I noted, I am old for my folk, and if Sam chooses to come it will be very soon in the experience of her people.  I doubt either Sam or I will desire to linger overlong here once we are together again.  Elves marry but once.  I would not have her remain sundered from her mate until the ending of this creation, knowing the loss of the one who truly loved her.

            “Not all Elves have refused to marry a second time when separated by death.”

            He looked at her long and hard before finally turning his gaze back to the sand on which he sat, and she knew that the tears she saw were few, but yet from the heart.  All within the Undying Lands knew the one example of that choice, and the grief caused by it.

            After a time she reached out to his mind but once more.  Bathe and be comforted, Child, and rest here for a time ere you return to your dwelling.  You are beloved here, and in more than one manner.  But think: which is worse—to not know the joy of that love, or to leave her to go onto what comes next with the delight of its fulfillment in both your hearts?

            She blessed him before leaving him to ponder her admonition.

            He sat for a short while before he rose to remove the silver robes he’d worn most of the time since he’d left the Mortal Lands.  As he carefully folded them and settled them upon a stone, he remembered the advice he’d given his cousin Brendilac Brandybuck decades ago when it had been learned that Merilinde, Brendi’s beloved, had but a few months left to her due to the growth that had been found in her stomach.  The two had planned to marry in the early spring, but now it was unlikely she would live to see their proposed wedding day.

            “I know how dearly the two of you love one another, Cousin,” he’d admonished Brendi.  “Do not allow both of you to regret the loss of the chance to know the joy of that love fulfilled.  Perhaps you won’t have long together, but would you truly deny her desire to have been your bride, or your own to love her as you’d so long wished?”

            Years later Brendi had told him how right Frodo had been to advise him in that manner, and in his turn had told Frodo to follow his own advice regarding the mutual stirring of hearts that the Baggins had shared with Narcissa Boffin since he came of age and assumed his place as Master of Bag End.  Narcissa had loved Frodo since she’d watched him as a young tween dancing behind the ale tent at the Free Fair in Michel Delving.  It was while dancing with her at the Party that the young Baggins had first recognized that he admired her in return.  But when he’d begun carrying the Ring left him by Bilbo, he found himself constantly experiencing the desire to simply take any Hobbitess he saw and master her by force.  That he could find himself so inclined had so shocked him that he’d purposely turned away any time he felt such a compulsion.

            He looked at the spot where the Maia had put aside her physical form as she’d left him.  He sighed before turning his attention once more eastward.  He’d spent the previous night above on the headland, looking back toward Middle Earth, back to where so many he yet loved remained.  Toward dawn he’d seen the sparkling of the water as a pod of dolphins passed the cove below, headed  west toward Valinor, and felt the other pull of his heart, toward the far West beyond the Undying Lands.  He’d experienced this pull often enough since he’d taken ship at Mithlond.  Much as he’d come to love this place and those who dwelt here, he knew well enough that there was more that he, as a Mortal, could reach for.  After all, it was not as if he had a good deal to hold him here on Tol Eressëa.  He sighed.  He had spent his whole life celibate—had denied himself the love and family he’d so desired since the deaths of his parents.  Pearl had thrown him over and married Isumbard instead.  He’d turned aside from Narcissa Boffin when he found the Ring interfering with his will to love properly.  The women who’d stirred his heart afterwards had already turned their own hearts toward others better suited to their natures and stations—Goldberry toward Tom Bombadil; Arwen toward Aragorn; Lady Éowyn toward Prince Faramir; the glassblower’s daughter to the young Man who’d loved her for years.  Then he’d found himself stirred by Narcissa once more, and this time he’d turned away that he not leave her a widow before she’d fully known the bliss of being his bride…. 

            Well, he’d prepared things for her so that she had at last that joy with his beloved cousin Brendilac, his oldest friend and his former personal lawyer, leaving them with a family of sorts such as he would have wished to know with her had they been able to marry. 

            And now it was suggested that he might know that joy with Livwen, daughter of Rhysellë the Orchardist and her husband Talorë the Sailor?  But while he could—and one day would—accept the Gift of Mortality and leave the Circles of Arda, he did not desire to bring her with him or to abandon her to her immortality with but the memory of their shared love any more than he’d wanted to leave Narcissa a widow with only the hint of fulfillment of a proper marriage!  Both had deserved far more of a life than what he might give them in the relatively short time left to him.

            Lord Ulmo’s people had intercepted him as he’d taken the small sailboat he’d sailed for much of his years spent here close toward the shores of Aman itself.  They’d turned him around and drawn him back to this cove to be met by one of the Maiar who’d counseled him so often since he’d come here.

            Her last words suggested he bathe himself in the cove.  Well, he’d do just that.  The joy of swimming had been one pleasure that had been restored to him here on the Lonely Isle, along with his delight in being able to dance again.  By immersing himself in Ulmo’s element one more time he’d wash away the disappointment of not fulfilling his voyage to the mainland, which would have hastened his time within the Circles of Arda to its inevitable end.  He entered the cove itself wearing only his small clothes.  He began swimming widdershins about the rough circle of the cove, circling it twice before he stopped to tread water, brushing the hair from before his eyes before diving deeply under the surface to briefly watch the life that flourished around the coral reef at the bottom of the cove.  Fish nuzzled his shoulder; a hermit crab crawled over the coral; a young octopus approached his arm and embraced his wrist briefly before it let him go and slipped away toward the open sea beyond the cove’s mouth.  He surfaced and rolled upon his back, facing up toward the sky where Arien was rising to her zenith.  It was barely midday!  He closed his eyes and let himself drift on the water, slipping easily into a light doze, picturing each of those of womankind who’d caught his heart throughout his life and thinking how their mutual lives might have played out had he actually allied himself with any one of them.

The tide was receding as he fantasized in this manner, and he was drawn further toward the mouth to the cove.  He was startled to full awareness when he found he was no longer being cradled by the gentle waves of the water of the cove, but was being rasped against the surface of a sandbar, and that the sand and small pebbles were working their way between the fabric of his garb and his skin.

He laughed ruefully as he rose to his feet and waded back to where his silver robes lay awaiting his return.  I cannot continue in this manner, he thought, carefully removing his small clothes and returning to the water’s edge.  He rinsed them thoroughly, and decided he should let them dry in the sun before he donned them once more, so he returned to the rock where his robes awaited him, set those on the beach and replaced them with his briefs so that no more sand should adhere to them as they dried.  He straightened his robes and sat upon them, and watched the sparkle of the now-westering Sun on the water and the glint of crystals on the sand and the far wall of the cove.  It was quiet, and across from him rested his small boat, its lines and furled sailcloth stirring in the gentle afternoon breeze.  It was quiet, the only sounds those of breeze and water, and the occasional wail of a seabird.  No one was likely to disturb him here, and at last he laid himself down on his robes, pulling part of the fabric over himself.  He’d not slept the previous night, so he allowed himself to again drift into a doze, one that swiftly deepened into full sleep.

*******

            Further west beyond the cove a group of young Elves were swimming in the surf, enjoying a carefree afternoon after finishing whatever tasks had been theirs that day.  A boat appeared from the west, headed apparently toward the quays on the eastern side of the island.

            Livwen rejoiced to recognize the bark.  “My atar returns from Alqualondë!  I must go to greet him!”

            Several of her companions chose to join her as she began running eastward, taking the cutting into the area of the cove to come more quickly to the Havens where Talorë would soon dock.  As they crested the ridge leading down into the caldera area they paused, noting the figure lying upon the strand.  The ellon running alongside Livwen murmured, “It appears a child is sleeping there.”

            Livwen shook her head.  “Not an elfling, Maringuë, but the Cormacolindo.  He often swims here and rests afterwards.”

            Maringuë straightened.  “We have heard of the Cormacolindo in Tirion, but none I know there has seen him.  Why has he not come to Aman proper to present himself before the Kings and the Valar?”

            “Did you not know that he cannot come further west than here or he would shortly die?  Iorhael is a mortal, after all.”

            Another ellon shook his head.  “Maringuë is a Noldo who has sojourned among us on Eressëa for only a short time.  What does he know of Mortals?”

            The young Elf from Tirion had stepped forward and was examining the sleeping figure with curiosity.  “Atto fought against Moringotto, following Eonwë’s banner to the eastern lands so many yeni past.  He has said that most of the Edain he saw there were of much the same stature as we of the Eldar.  But this one is but half the height of our people.”

            “Ir-Iorhael is not of the Edain.  He and his kinsman who accompanied him here are of a different people.  They call themselves Hobbits, and are known to other races as Periain, or Halflings.  He tells us that mostly his people till the earth or are craftsmen.  Rarely do they leave their own land, but he and three others left the Shire to bring the Ring of Power crafted by Aulendil, known there as Sauron, out of the Shire to Ir-Elrond’s realm of Imladris once Its nature had been revealed by Olórin.  Carrying this thing cost him much, and so he was granted the grace to come here for healing of both hröa and fëa ere he passes beyond the Circles of Arda.”

            Maringuë again straightened, shaking his head.  “I still say he looks but a child, Gilfindel.”

            Gilfindel’s voice was saddened.  “You have not looked into his eyes, nor heard him speak.  He has rightly been named one of the Wise.”

            At that moment Frodo shifted in his sleep, his arm straightening, pulling the portion of his robe that had covered him away so that it fell back on the sand.  The small group of Elves went still as they found themselves scanning the now exposed body of Frodo Baggins.  Even Livwen had never seen her friend fully naked.

            An elleth murmured, “Iorhael is definitely no child!”

            Maringuë swallowed.  “Indeed,” he whispered.

            Livwen covered her eyes.  She spoke softly. “Let us leave him to his rest.  It is not mete that we should gawk at him while he sleeps.”  She gestured for her companions to continue out of the cove.

*******

            Arien was sinking into the West when Livwen returned.  Frodo still slept on his now bunched robes.  He was now on his side, but she remembered the proof that he was a man of his people, and no child after all.  She sat down near this person she’d known from her early childhood.  She’d come to love him as a friend and even a mentor.  She’d taught him how to sail the small boat made for her by her atto, gifting it to the Hobbit once she’d outgrown it.

            Until now the realization that Frodo Baggins was indeed a man grown had never been at the forefront of her thought.  She now had to face the fact that for years her affection for this guest of Tol Eressëa had been changing from mere friendship between a child and an adult to something far more intimate.  Now she, too, was an adult even as he was.  Two adults could love one another with both their fëar and their hröar.

            But he was not of the Eldar!  He would receive the Gift from the One, and his spirit would leave his body to go on to whatever realm was set aside for those who had lived a mortal life.  How could she give herself to one who must in time leave her?  Or could she choose to follow him when he left this life?  It had been done in Endorë that Mortals and Eldar had joined in marriage.  Lúthien Tinúviel had married Beren, and they had begotten Dior, who fathered Elwing.  Idril had married Tuor, and they had begotten Ëarendil.  Now Ëarendil and Elwing dwelt in the north of Aman, and Ëarendil sailed the night sky as the Gil-Estel, the Star of Hope.  Their sons Elros and Elrond had each chosen a different path, the former as a mortal and the latter as one of the Eldar.  Now Aragorn Elessar, a descendant of Elros, had married Arwen Undómiel, the daughter of Elrond, and she had sacrificed her own immortality to become his Queen. 

            If Livwen were to accept Frodo as her spouse, what would be their fate when his time came?  Would he even want to join with her?  Or, would he dismiss the thought of accepting her due to his expectation he could dwell with her only until he must leave this life?

            Child, why do you worry over these matters when your atar has just returned from Aman?  Do you not know enough of Iorhael’s mind to predict whether or not he might think to join with you in a marriage he knows would end far too soon in your experience?

            Livwen sighed as she looked up to meet the compassionate gaze of the Maia Olórin.  She whispered, “But only now have I realized that I love him and want to know him as my husband.”

            He stroked her hair in comfort.  I regret that you feel such pain. But know this:  both mortals and Eldar have suffered thusly throughout all the time of the Children on this world.

            She wiped her eyes.  “Such knowledge fails to ease my heart.”  She rose and almost reluctantly accepted his embrace.

            Go now, dearest.  I will watch over him until he wakes, and then see him back to the guesthouse.

            At last she shifted from his arms, turned west, and left the cove to the way up to her parents’ home.

            Some time after her departure her mother emerged from where she’d stood, watching her daughter’s suffering.  “I feared that she would know the pain of grief when her friend Iorhael must die.  But to see her grieving because she desires to join with him as husband and wife and then realizing that her desire will be painful no matter how the future may work out ….”

            Maia and mother shared their joint sorrow over the pain known by Livwen—and Frodo Baggins.

To See the Ringbearer

            Maringuë of Tirion stood upon the deck of the ship sailed by Talorë the Sailor from Tol Eressëa, watching as they sailed along the southern coast of the Lonely Isle.  “Why don’t you use the western haven?” he asked Talorë,

            The sailor shrugged.  “And why should I wish to do so?  Our home is on the east side, to which the ships from the Mortal Lands come.  It is where I arrived on the island, and where I met my Rhysellë. It is where my own ships are harboured.  I am happy there.”

            “But only the fishing boats sail from there.”

            The sailor shook his head, smiling.  “I fish also, as well as bearing goods and passengers back and forth between Eressëa and Aman proper.  I rejoice to sail whichever of my barks is suitable for the needs of the day.”

            Meringue’s younger brother Fiondil emerged from the cabin on the foredeck, fastening the frog that held his cloak around him.  “Are we nearly there?” he asked.  “Will we see the Cormacolindo today, do you think?”

            Maringuë sighed.  Since his own visit to Eressëa some sunrounds past, his brother had expressed a remarkable interest in Ir-Iorhael, as he himself thought of the small mortal also known as Frodo Baggins who was an honoured guest on the Lonely Isle.  “I cannot say for certain, brother.  But as he is a frequent companion to Livwen, daughter to our captain here, it is indeed possible that it might happen.  She likes to greet her father on his return to the eastern haven, and it may be that Ir-Iorhael would come with her today.  It is also likely that Captain Talorë could better answer your questions about his daughter’s friend.”

            Fiondil fastened his attention upon their captain.  “Then you know Ir-Iorhael, sir?” he asked politely.

            Talorë smiled down on his younger passenger.  “Indeed.  I saw him first on a day when I returned to the havens from a night’s fishing, my son Círdan with me on a visit from Alqualondë.  We had to wait for an arrival from Endorë to precede us into the harbour, and we took the southern quay rather than the central one to allow it to berth there.  Livwen was fascinated to watch those arriving from the Mortal Lands disembark, particularly when Olórin and the two Hobbits stepped ashore.  She had never seen a Maia in the fána of a Man, much less such as a Man himself.  As for the two Hobbits----“

            “Two Hobbits?” interrupted Maringuë.  “There were two Hobbits?”

            Talorë’s smile widened.  “Yes, when the Cormocolindo first came he was accompanied by his kinsman, Master Bilbo Baggins, who had been his guardian in his youth.  It was Master Bilbo who found the Ring in the caverns of the Misty Mountains and brought It out, back into the light of day, in his pocket, keeping It until the day his beloved ward Frodo reached the age of adulthood for their people.  He then passed the Ring to Frodo Baggins and left the land of their people to take up residence with the Elves of Imladris.”

            Marinquë and Fiondil exchanged puzzled looks.  “You did not tell me that two of Ir-Iorhael’s people had come here,” the younger brother murmured.

            “I did not know.”  Maringuë turned to face their captain.  “Where now is this Master Bilbo Baggins?” he demanded.

            “Oh, he left us but a few sunrounds after their arrival.  Once he was assured that the beloved son of his heart was at last healing from his great hurt, he allowed himself to accept the Gift from the One and went beyond the Circles of Arda as was his right as a mortal.  He was very old by the standards of the Hobbits of the Shire, after all.”

            Neither of the two youths from Tirion understood this.

            They were sailing past what appeared to be a tall ridge.  Marinquë indicated it.  “Beyond that lies a protected cove where the Cormacolindo often swims, and where he keeps the small boat on which he sails upon the sea.  It was where I first saw him, sleeping under the silver robes he usually wears.”

            Fiondil asked, “And you thought him but a child at first?”

            His older brother nodded.  “How was I to know?  He is the first of his kind I have ever seen.”

            “And he appeared almost as crystal?”

            “No,” Maringuë said, shaking his head.  “That time he appeared solid enough, there in the shadows of the late afternoon while he slept.  But in the full daylight one could see the light of Arien shining through him.”  He turned to Talorë, asking. “Was it thus with this Master Bilbo?”

            “No, but no one assaulted him with such a thing as a Morgûl knife intended to enslave him to the Shadow World.  Nor was he infected with the spirit of such a one as Ungoliant as was Frodo Baggins.  Master Frodo was very ill when he arrived on our shores.  We are told that he almost left his hröa while they were underway.”

            “What is a Morgûl knife?” Fiondil asked.

            “A cursed weapon inspired by Sauron intended to destroy the fëa of a mortal.   The Nazgûl used them to bring the fëar of their victims into the Shadow World with them, under their rule.  Had the shard of the knife left in the wound reached his heart, Lord Frodo would have become a wraith like them, and would have been forced to surrender Sauron’s Ring to them so they could restore It to Sauron’s hand.  But Sauron was never one of the Valar—he was but a Maia.  He had no ability to make aught new—he could but take the processes and doings of others and twist them to his own purposes.  So we have been told by Olórin and Lord Elrond.  To free him from the spell, Elrond had both to remove the shard of the blade and to twist the underlying spell to one in which his mortality is now focused on bringing him to being one with his own Light of Being.  It is much as it was when Ir-Eärendil found that his own mortality had been burned from him on coming to Aman to petition the Valar to our rescue from Moringotto.”

            He sighed as he turned the tiller to go north along the eastern shore of the Lonely Isle.  At last he continued, “When we first come here we are oft depleted, depleted and in need of healing so that we can return to what we were intended to be.  Even Lord Elrond and Lady Artanis Galadriel, brightly shining as they might have been in Ennor, were drawn and weakened when they first arrived.  Lady Estë’s people needed to bring them to the shore so that they could be washed clean and their own spirits refreshed by the Song of the Sea Lord Ulmo holds in his keeping.  They keep houses here on Eressëa, but dwell mostly now on Aman proper.  Still, they come often to delight in the Light of Ir-Iorhael and to honour his determination to accomplish his duty to see the Ring destroyed.”  He laughed softly.  “He does not see this as necessarily a good thing, seeing his actions as evidence of stubbornness rather than the sacred duty fulfilled it was.”

            Of a sudden the wind dropped and the small ship slowed.  Talorë looked to the east, and they could see a grey shadow arising out of the sunrise, one that was becoming increasingly mithril silver as it approached.  Talorë’s face brightened.  “A new ship from the Mortal Lands,” he whispered.  “More refugees from the destruction that Sauron wrought on our lands.”  He examined the ship carefully, and went as still as the wind had gone.  He sighed, and turned to his two passengers, an ironic smile on his lips.  “A third Perian comes.  I deem it is Ir-Panthael, Ir-Iorhael’s companion from their dread journey to the Dark Lord’s place of power.  At last Samwise Gamgee arrives to join his beloved friend.  It is for this reason alone that Frodo has remained with us as long as he has.  He knew that this great gift had been awarded Sam as it had been to him and to Bilbo—that those who had borne and been damaged by Sauron’s evil creation might be healed and their Light restored ere they go on to the Presence.”  He turned his face back toward the oncoming grey ship.  “A third mortal arrives.  I am told that there will be one more still to come—the right to come here has been offered to the Dwarf Gimli, who will most likely arrive with Ir-Legolas of the great Forest of Green Leaves when he comes in his own time.  No, he never touched Sauron’s abomination, but It clawed at his heart and mind during the time he travelled with the Cormacolindor.  He, too, is promised healing here ere he follows Bilbo, Frodo, and Samwise beyond the Circles of Arda.”

            Neither Marinquë nor Fiondil understood what was meant by this discourse, but they watched with awe as the grey ship passed in front of them to the entrance to the eastern haven for Tol Eressëa.  It was a ship reminiscent of the swan-headed ships of Alqualondë, its own swan’s head shining as it became clearer to their sight, its eyes sparkling black opals shining in the brightening dawn.

            North, a great green pennant rose over the tower atop the hill of Avallonë.  Talorë was adjusting his sails to further slow their travel and yet allow the smaller vessel to still move northwest toward the eastern haven.  Similar adjustments were being made aboard the larger grey ship, slowing its speed and preparing for it to nose into its harbourage.  The morning songs to the rising of Arien were shifting to songs of welcome for those returning from their long estrangements in the eastern lands.  From the grey ship rose other songs of praise to Ulmo and the rest of the Valar who’d brought its passengers safely along the Strait Path to Elvenhome.

            All were awaiting the arrival of those who’d abandoned their former home to arrive here in the Blessed Lands.  What reunions would be known here on the eastern piers of Tol Eressëa?

            “Many are already come to the quays,” observed Fiondil.

            Indeed a large crowd already filled the central quay, singing as they stood in an orderly manner upon the stone pier.  As they watched a tall, shining elleth arrived accompanied by a figure robed in white, a splendid beard lying against his chest.  “Olórin has come, appearing as he was seen last by Ir-Panthael, as the Wizard Gandalf.  It would be a comfort for the Hobbit, to see him first as he remembered him as he boarded the Ship to return to the Undying Lands.  And, I believe, they bring with them Ir-Iorhael; and, if I am not mistaken, those following them are Ir-Elrond and his beloved wife.”

            Artanis Galadriel and the Maia in the guise of an elderly Man did not appear to have anyone with them, although a bright, silver light shone beyond them.  Indeed, the light they saw might have been held in the crystal bottle the elleth carried in her hand.  It was strange.  Those waiting already willingly stepped aside enough to allow these to go forward to where the gangplank would rest.

            But now the grey ship from Endorë was slowing settling into its intended berth, and they were moving toward the southern quay where they were greeted by a single elleth and a number of those whose duty it was to help throw and receive the ropes required to hold the smaller craft to its place.

            The attention of the elleth was painfully shared between their craft and those awaiting the larger one.  Obviously, as happy as she might be to greet her father, Livwen of Eressëa was anxious as to whom the greater ship might have brought to the Lonely Isle.  Meringuë caught that the look Livwen’s father gave his daughter was filled with compassion, although he did not understand why the ellon felt this emotion toward her. 

            A gangplank was lifted into place that those from the smaller boat might disembark even as the last lines from the greater ship were being fastened to the cleats built into the pier to receive them.  Those who had sailed the larger ship brought forth their gangplank and set it into place, and at last those upon the grey ship began to cross it to set foot upon the solid land of Tol Eressëa.  Many of these newcomers stumbled at first as they had to come to terms with being free of the movement of water beneath them for however long it was since they’d set sail to cross the Strait Road.  Many came forward around the Lady and her escort to be reunited with those who descended first, embracing them with pleasure and welcome, leading them toward the strand and to their new abodes. 

            The greater part of the passengers had come forth before two who appeared to be Lords of the Eldar came to the plank, leading between them a small figure that glowed with a golden shimmer.  Fiondil straightened.  “I can see his Light of Being,” he murmured, “but it is not as is that of an Elf!  It pulses gold as sunlight!  Why is this?” he asked Talorë, turning to face the sailor.

            The ellon shrugged, taking a deep breath before answering, “It is the Light of Being for a mortal.  It pulses with their heartbeat and with the rhythm of their breathing.  That to be seen in Ir-Iorhael is like unto the light of Eärendil, while this is more like that of Arien at her full height.  It must be Samwise Gamgee at the last, the Lord Panthael, come to join his beloved friend and former Master.  This is the sign that Frodo Baggins will finally choose to accept the Gift and go onward, when both find themselves ready to do so.”

            Meringuë noted that Livwen had paled, and clutched her hands together, her eyes fixed on the Maia who was stepping forward with the silver aura of Ir-Iorhael beside him, the Hobbit’s shape barely to be discerned against Olórin’s white garb.  Lady Galadriel had gone first, holding out her crystal phial to the Hobbit who accompanied her husband, and they saw him smile as he shook his head at her offer, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears as they fixed upon the shining form of Frodo Baggins.  “I don’t need the star-glass for to see him true,” they heard him say as he moved forward to be reunited with the brother of his heart.

            The two Lights of Being pulsed as one, Sun- and Starlight joined together as Iorhael and Panthael embraced one another after nearly half a yen’s separation.

            Meringuë saw again the pain in Livwen’s eyes, and at last understood.  She loved Frodo Baggins not just as a friend, but as one she’d loved for many sunrounds as an elleth loved the ellon who had stirred her heart.  No matter how long Iorhael and Panthael might linger here on the Lonely Isle, it would mean separation for all the ages for her from the one she truly loved.  Now he understood the compassion seen in her father’s gaze.

 *******

            The ship had arrived in late fall-of-the-leaf.  Fiondil and Meringue had time to see the two Hobbits frequently during their visit.  At times, mostly in the night time, Iorhael would seem solid enough.  But more often he was like one of the Suruli, a glimmer of light in the brightness of the day, difficult to discern from the reflection of light at the edge of a leaf or from the sparkle of a gem or the rim of a ripple of water.

            Then at the summer solstice many went to the Garden of the White Tree to bless them one last time.  Neither of the visitors from Tirion went, but all watched that way until the stars of a sudden began to dance within the heavens, and were joined by two great Lights rising from beneath the Tree to join in the glory above.

            The Cormacolindor had at last taken their leave of Arda.

 *

            And the Light of Being for Livwen, daughter of Talorë the sailor and Rhysellë the Orchardist, now at times tended to pulse with the beating of her heart and the rhythm of her breath.

Author's Notes 

            There are differences between the Sindarin as spoken in Middle Earth and Quenya that was used in Aman.  Those who lived on Tol Eressëa most likely used as many Sindarin words as Quenyan, considering that it was to this island that most refugees from Middle Earth came first.  So it is that I have felt free to use words from both languages in this this story, sometimes in the same conversation.

            In his letters, the Master has let it be known that Frodo would not live as an immortal in spite of living in the Undying Lands.  In time he would die.  But in the Silmarillion and the appendices to LOTR we learn that mortals could not live long once they reached the actual shores of Aman, as its air was so enriched by having been breathed by the Valar that Men’s lives would burn out within moments.  So it was that Frodo and Bilbo were sent to Tol Eressëa to heal, not to Aman itself.  How would this affect the thoughts of these two mortals, or Sam or Gimli who would arrive there in time?  And how would this affect relationships between Frodo and the folk who surrounded him?  How would it affect a possible romantic relationship?

            Ir and Tar translated to the titles Lord and King respectively.  It is likely that when describing Frodo formally using his Sindarin name, he would be named Ir-Iorhael by the denizens of Tol Eressëa.  After all, he and Sam had been named Princes of the West during their acclamation in Cormallen, and there are indications that Frodo at least was considered to be among the Wise as a result of his interactions with the Ring and his actions afterwards in insisting on mercy to those of the Big Men that surrendered to the Hobbits and who freely gave up their weapons, not to mention his recognition of Saruman’s true nature as a Maia that led him to seek to give him time to return to spiritual health once more.  Frodo was resistant to the temptation to take vengeance on those who put aside their own assumed belligerence toward those seen as weaker than themselves, and sought not to allow his people or friends to become corrupted by the desire to avenge themselves upon those who had done them physical and emotional harm. 

            Elsewhere I have postulated that Saruman had reached the point that he was desperate to be freed from his Mannish physical state, which was why he prodded Gríma to the point that the Man slew him at the last.  In The Silmarillion it was indicated that any of the Ainur who held a particular physical shape for too long would take on the nature of the shape they’d assumed and eventually lose the ability to return to their true spiritual selves.  Apparently Saruman’s nature had been so damaged by being kept too long in a Mannish body that he had taken on Mannish ambition, and his fascination with Sauron’s power prompted him to also take on the plan to seek to ally himself with the enemy of Middle Earth and perhaps find the means to oust him and take his place as the one in domination over the whole world.

            As for the growing attraction between Frodo and the Elven maiden Livwen—why not?  We know that when he met Tom Bombadil’s Goldberry he was inspired to utter his own paean of praise to her, and that when he realized that Arwen’s arrival in Minas Tirith meant she would be Aragorn’s Queen, that she would bless the evening and drive away fears of darkness.  It is likely that he had been drawn to her in much the same way he’d been drawn to Goldberry.

            As one who has raised children who’d lost their own families while young, I have seen that such children usually find themselves wishing to start their own families sooner rather than later.  I think that Frodo would have been drawn this way, but on finding himself under the influence of the Ring once he’d achieved adult status to the point It was likely to prompt him to abuse women, he would avoid relationships that would possibly bring him to violence against the woman he loved and the possible children they might produce.

            Then, after the destruction of the Ring, how would he respond to the realization that he was now free to court and possibly marry?  As movie-Frodo says, How do you go on when you realize there is no real going back?  Saruman had indicated that Frodo would not know a long or healthy life—insisting he merely foretold the truth of Frodo’s future.  Marry when it is likely you won’t remain long enough to see the family you want so desperately grow?  So he adopted Sam and his family as his own, and left it to Sam to produce the family he would not have the time to enjoy.

            Elves come to adult status when they reach their fifties.  If Frodo met Livwen as a child when he was already at least fifty-three, he would be at the very least in his nineties when she was recognized as a woman of her people, if not older.  Bilbo lived into his one hundred and thirties before he left Middle Earth; would Frodo linger as long?  I doubt it. If Frodo lived to see Sam’s arrival on the island he was at least one hundred fourteen.  As Bilbo’s eleventy-first birthday was considered to be remarkable, Frodo would also be very old by Hobbit reckoning when he and Sam were reunited.

            Plus there was the complication of a union between mortal and immortal.  Perhaps Mithrellas was able to escape renouncing her immortality when she gave birth to the children of the first Prince of Dol Amroth, but that grace was not granted to Lúthien or Arwen, although it is not known what fate was granted Túor and Idril.  Would this not concern both Frodo and Livwen?

            So, in my-verse Frodo remains celibate to the end of his life, letting Livwen know of his love for her only as he leaves his mortal remains to dance among the stars before finally turning West.

~~o0o~~

Hmm.  It appears that this story grew in the telling.  Somehow I managed to stop adding details to it that would have made it bulky and ungainly, but I managed to contain it somewhat.

            The suruli are mentioned in volume one of The History of Middle-Earth as creatures of light that were to be glimpsed at the edges of reflected light.  I would imagine that as Frodo became more and more one becoming as a glass filled with light for eyes to see as can as noted by Gandalf as he sat by Frodo's bedside in Rivendell, that the suruli would have been drawn to him.

As for Livwen--perhaps she truly wished from time to time to be at one with the nature of the one she'd come to love.