Chapter 1

Frodo was walking with the King on a lower street in Minas Tirith near the city gates when he saw her for the first time.

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Ever watchful of Frodo since his recovery from the near-mortal wounds he had suffered in Mordor Aragorn, now King of Gondor, frequently accompanied the Ringbearer on his restless wanderings about the city.

The King saw Frodo’s isolation and pain but all his skills as a healer could only bring this, the greatest hero of Middle Earth, small comfort. Some hurts ran too deeply for any skill of men or elves to heal. And Aragorn cursed his failure to ease the sufferings of one who deserved so much more.

Hence, as often as his duties allowed, Aragorn kept close to Frodo’s side, ready at any instant to bring what small relief he could of the agony Frodo suppressed but which emerged to overpower him far too frequently.

Aragorn was beginning to despair.

Frodo, though brave and uncomplaining, was slipping away from him and from all his friends into what dark torments, Aragorn could only barely imagine in his worst nightmares.

What had happened to this once lively and joyous young Hobbit? He had gone knowingly into grave peril a vital, glowing being. Now, though he retained a memory of his former radiance, Frodo was a sad, lost, yet valiant , terribly fragile survivor of some horror he could not or would not share . He bore his inner torment with fortitude and always the sense that he must not burden his friends with his sufferings.

The savior of Middle Earth had survived things unimaginable and unspoken. He carried it all within himself and refused to let others have more than the briefest glimpse of what threatened to consume him. To devour him whole and piteously. He covered it all with a kind, protective, sad smile and words of reassurance that his friends saw through immediately yet would not contradict in risk of threatening Frodo’s dignity. His slender grasp onto life and sanity.

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Twilight was falling with deep violet shadows upon the white walls of the city. The first bright stars were appearing in the clear deep blue sky above. A sky that only weeks before had been blackly tainted by the gasping , noxious fumes of Mordor and the stench of death and putrefaction of war. Now much of the reminders of the battles had been cleared away and the walls were being rebuilt. Minas Tirith was regaining all of it’s former beauty and grandeur and it’s people were recovering from their wounds and losses and were feeling a joy that had been withheld from them by the Dark Lord for far too long.

Some though, would carry deep and abiding scars of what they had suffered.

Frodo bore wounds both internally and externally that no one else could fathom.

Yet others had suffered terribly as well.

As Frodo and Aragorn wordlessly turned to ascend back towards the upper reaches of the city a long line of darkly cloaked and hooded people emerged from the archway before them. Few of their faces were visible since most looked downwards and seemed weighed down by pains and vast sadness. Frodo felt it as a palpable thing in the deepening shadows around them. And that silent anguish was answered from within his own heart.

“Aragorn, who are they?” He asked in a whisper.

“They are the Black Elves.”

“I have never heard of them. And they are not as tall as elves nor do they seem as stately. Surely something grave has befallen them.”

“Grave indeed. They were prisoners of Sauron. Some captured long ago and held and tormented by him in the dungeons and torture chambers of the Black Tower. A few even had the misfortune to be born in Mordor and have known no other life till now. Though all did their best to cling to their fair ways and lineage you can well imagine that much was lost.”

“Yes. I can imagine it.......Too well.” Frodo said with a deep sigh filled with memories he wished would leave him but haunted him constantly.

“I’m sorry, Frodo... To make you recall......” Aragorn said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“It’s all right. I am learning to bear it.” But Frodo felt weakened and slightly ill as he tried to suppress his flood of dark thoughts.

He and Aragorn had stopped to let the line of Black Elves pass.

It was then that one hooded face looked up. It was a she-elf. Only half her face was visible and that still in shadow. Frodo only saw a dark slightly slanted eye above a pale angular cheek. She was not tall by elvish standards more the size of dwarf women or teen-aged humans.

She halted and stepped out of line towards him. Then to Frodo’s amazement and embarrassment she knelt before him and kissed the hem of his dark cloak.

“Ringbearer.” She said in a reverent, low voice that broke with emotion and tears.

“Please, don’t.” Frodo told her. He did not feel worthy of anything like reverence. Yet, now this happened all too often. The people of Gondor often stopping him and bowing so and thanking him. He felt terribly uncomfortable with it. And now an elf was doing this thing. An elf. It was nearly too much for him to take. “Please...get up. Please stop.”

“Ringbearer. We live because of you. When the Dark Lord fell we escaped to this world that we feared no longer existed .” She said still kneeling before him.

‘I am glad you escaped......But please...do get up.”

She did not seem to hear him or she could not obey his request out of her respect and gratitude.

Again she kissed the hem of his cloak.

“Ringbearer. We owe you our lives. Only... can you tell me?”

“Tell you what, My Lady?”

“HOW to live? I fear I do not know how to do this new thing. To live in a clean land without pain and fear. I do not know how. Tell me how?”

Frodo was choking back his own tears. How could he answer such a question?

Since she would not rise he knelt down in front of her and took her hands which she held clenched before her. She looked into his face and though he could still see only one half of it her eyes appealed to him for help.

He swallowed the sorrow in his throat.

“I cannot tell you how to do this. I do not know how to live any longer. Yet we must. We have gained a new ......... a new.... chance to live. Though we may not have expected it. I did not expect to live and yet here I am faced with the same problem. Do not give up. We must try to find a way to go on with what has been given to us.”

Aragorn knelt beside them both.

“Frodo,” he said. “They are going to Lothlorien to be healed and to relearn who they are. Then perhaps some will return to their own lands.... Mirkwood, Rivendell or journey over the Sea.”

“Can they be healed?”

“Time alone will tell. But Lothlorien is a place of light and health, thought it fades still. Nowhere else can so much good be done for them.”

“Go then. Go with your people and find peace.” Frodo told her.

She nodded.

“What is your name?”

“Earinii.”

“It is a form of Earendil, the star of the elves.”

“Yes.”

Frodo reached inside his cloak to a pocket sewn within it’s folds and drew out the star glass of Galadriel.

“This. It contains the light of Earendil. The Lady Galadriel gave it to me and it saw me through great darkness.

“The Star Glass!” Earenii said with awe.

“ I would give it to you but Galadriel insisted it be mine and I fear I need it still.”

“I could not dream of taking such a thing. No it is your’s alone, Ringbearer.”

“But let it remind you of who you are and where you come from. For you , too, are a creature of beauty and light.”

“I have never known these things.... till now.”

“But you are learning and will learn much more in the Fair Land to which you are headed. Look! Your people are far ahead of you. Go now and catch them up. Go and .... and try to find happiness.”

Again she bowed low before him.

“Ringbearer.” she repeated with a note of gladness and obedience to his wishes in her voice.

Then she rose and Frodo noted with a pang that though she tried to walk rapidly to rejoin the line of elves she walked haltingly as if great pains assailed her body. Then she drew herself up and with brave resolution , inhaling deeply to ease her suffering , she walked off.

At length, long after the Black Elves had gone out of the range of their sight Frodo and Aragorn returned with sadness of heart to the upper reaches of the White City.

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TBC