Purpose

‘My name is Frodo Baggins,’ the slight figure said, as he rose from tending the flowers on the grave before him, dusting his hands on the seat of his breeches. ‘And I am a hobbit of the Shire.’

The voice behind him was gentle and amused. ‘I believe we know that already, Frodo Baggins.  Why do you feel the need to state it so clearly?  Is something troubling you?’

‘Lord Elrond!’ Frodo blushed and ran his green-stained fingers through dark hair touched with silver. ‘No, indeed, I am fine.’

Elrond’s grey eyes regarded him thoughtfully. ‘No matter, Frodo.  I have come to ask you if you would care to join us this evening.  The stars are beautiful and it will be pleasant to spend time together.’

Frodo sighed.  ‘I am honoured, my lord.  I would be pleased to join you, if that’s all right,’ he replied politely. ‘Will there be singing?’

‘If elves are gathered together beneath the stars, my friend, there will most assuredly be singing.’

‘Oh, good,’ Frodo said, his voice flat and his eyes dull.

As Elrond left, Frodo began his walk back towards the hobbit hole which the elves had helped construct to be Bilbo’s and his home when they had first arrived in the Blessed Realm.  The grass gleamed rich green, studded with buttercups, cornflowers, vetch, ragged robin, and other meadow and hedgerow flowers. The path curved smoothly up to a round front door that was just a little too big.  It stood open, for the weather was warm and the gentle breeze soft on his face.

Frodo sat on the bench by the door and looked at the rolling hills and fresh woods before him.  The sky was clear blue, birds sang joyously in the trees and bushes as they sought food for their young and, just behind his home, a small stream rippled merrily past.  He closed his eyes.

He had come looking for healing – and healing he had certainly found.  The wound from the Morgul blade no longer worried him.  The anniversary of the Ring’s destruction passed unnoticed.  He was in better physical shape than he had been since he was a tween.

‘Beware the words of elves, they say,’ he thought, ‘for they say both yea and nay. Maybe they should add something about being wary of their gifts, as well.’

He leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head on his hands, shutting out the beauty before him.  He couldn’t say they were unkind – they weren’t. They were endlessly kind, and gentle, and welcoming.  They included him in their gatherings, they invited him to weddings, and festivals, and events like tonight’s singing. They honoured him.  They listened to him with respect, even though he knew they looked on him as little more than a child. But they weren’t his kind.

He pictured a summer’s night in the Shire.  Fare prepared for the hearty appetites of hobbits, warm, rich with flavours, but simple. Ale, dark and nutty, and a pipe to finish off.  Time spent going over old tales: jokes and laughter. Earthy, he supposed you could call it.  The food and drink and conversation of people tied to the land, people like him.  Going home when the Green Dragon closed, to rest in his own comfortable bed and sleep until the smell of frying bacon and mushrooms dragged him back.

He had never thought himself to be a typical hobbit, not with Bilbo as his guardian. He had always wanted to travel, to have adventures, to learn about things outside the Shire - to spend time with the elves. And there was a bitter irony, he thought. Now all his time was spent with elves, and what he craved for was the company of his own people.

He should be grateful, he told himself sternly.  Had he stayed in the Shire, he would have faded long ago.  The wounds that had festered in him would have drawn all pleasure from him and his steady decline would have tormented his friends.  He should be grateful. He would be grateful.

He pulled himself to his feet and entered the slightly over-sized hobbit hole to wash and change for the evening, determined to show his elven friends how much he appreciated their care.

***

‘I am concerned, Mithrandir,’ Elrond said quietly to the white-bearded wizard. ‘He is not himself.  I know Bilbo’s death affected him badly, but that was now some years ago and he appeared to accept it.  Yet he seems to be descending into a melancholy from which we cannot stir him.’

Gandalf watched the hobbit from under his bushy eyebrows. ‘H’mm,’ he grunted, observing the slumped shoulders and the droop of his head.  ‘It couldn’t be he’s growing a little tired of listening to elves singing to the stars, now, could it?’ He rumbled a deep chuckle in response to Elrond’s frown.

Frodo lifted his head and responded courteously to a female elf in a long gown of soft blue as she leant over him and spoke, but as soon as she moved away, he pulled back further into the shadows in an attempt to avoid being noticed. 

The wizard regarded him sadly and sighed.  ‘He’s lonely, Elrond.  There is now no-one here who shares his memories and interests, and he knows he will remain alone for most of his life.  The only thing he has to look forward to is that, one day, as he grows close to death, Sam might come and join him. Yet he cannot even anticipate that with pleasure, for he knows that, if it is to happen at all, then Sam will have lost Rosie, and Frodo could take no joy in that.’

‘He deserves more than this empty life,’ the elf said sadly.

‘He does,’ Gandalf agreed. ‘But what can we do to give it to him?’

‘This will take some thought,’ Elrond replied, eyes narrowed.

Gandalf smiled.  ‘I think we need to involve some others in this scheming, as well.  Celebrian, for example.  Galadriel. I’m sure that between us we should be able to help Frodo and give him some purpose in life.’

***

‘Frodo enjoys learning,’ Elrond protested. ‘I’m sure he would get pleasure from working with me to develop the library.’

His wife and her mother exchanged speaking glances.

‘He would do it if you asked him,’ Celebrian said gently, as the late summer sun brightened her gleaming hair. ‘I am sure he would enjoy some aspects of it – but it would not really help him to feel happier.’

‘He needs people, Elrond,’ Galadriel told him.  ‘Frodo is by nature a carer – he looked after his cousins, he protected Sam – in recent years Bilbo needed him.  He is now surrounded by a self-sufficient and reserved race of people twice his height and there is nobody close to him who needs him at all.  We must find him something that will arouse his protective impulses.’

‘Well, how do we do that?’ Gandalf asked. ‘A pet of some kind?  A dog?’

Celebrian pictured the type of dog usually found in the Blessed Realm.  Elves liked dogs, but they tended to prefer tall, rangy, powerful hounds.  She could never remember having seen any of the smaller breeds that might be more suitable for a hobbit.  ‘I’m not sure.’ She shook her head. ‘I suppose as puppies they might be appealing, but a full-grown wolfhound – he could use it as a pony.’

Gandalf harrumphed with laughter at the picture of the slender hobbit on the back of one of the dogs favoured by Galadriel’s father.  ‘No, maybe you’re right,’ he said. ‘What, then?  We can’t conjure up a need for his help where none exists.  He’s so sensitive that he’d know we’d invented something for the purpose and that would just make things worse.’

‘I believe I know the very thing,’ Celebrian said, a mysterious smile lighting her face. ‘But it will take a while longer before we will be bringing it to fruition.  The first thing we must do if my idea is to be of use is to involve Frodo more closely with our family over the next few months.’

‘He is more closely linked with us and Mithrandir than with anyone else as it is,’ Elrond observed.

‘Get him to help you with your research,’ Galadriel suggested, with a smile rather similar to her daughter’s. ‘Maybe the library will come in useful, after all.  It is not an answer, but it will ensure he spends more time with you both.’

‘I will speak to him,’ Gandalf said gruffly, ‘and let him know that I think you need his support.  That should start him looking outwards again.’

Elrond offered his hands to his wife to assist her to her feet. ‘I hope it helps,’ he said. ‘Frodo deserves a long and happy life in recompense for what he suffered. I do not like to see him in pain.’

‘Unfortunately,’ Galadriel said, as she took Gandalf’s arm, ‘we do not always get what we deserve. There are many who are well rewarded for little merit and others whose great deeds are overlooked. It is our responsibility to ensure that Frodo is not allowed to suffer because we prefer to ignore that he is less than happy here.’

***

Frodo observed Elrond’s restlessness as he paced round the winter-dark library, making the lamps flicker as he stirred the air.  ‘You are not yourself, my lord,’ he said politely. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

Elrond stopped, his robes settling round him to their more usual dignified stillness.  The silence extended between them before the elf finally answered. ‘I am concerned, Frodo.’ He paused. ‘I do not know if you are aware - .’ He stopped again, glancing at the hobbit.

Frodo leaned back in his chair, placing a marker on the page he had been reading. ‘If you are trying to discover whether I am aware of Lady Celebrian’s condition,’ he said with amusement, ‘I can tell you that I am, perhaps, not as naïve as you appear to think. I haven’t said anything, because you haven’t chosen to tell me about it, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t know.’

Elrond sat down abruptly in the large chair in front of the dancing fire.  ‘I am anxious about her, Frodo.  I know it is silly. Everyone says that she is in perfect health and that everything is developing as it should. . .’  His voice trailed away and he closed his eyes briefly before beginning again.  ‘What is more, I am a healer – in my head, I know it myself – but it has been almost three thousand years.  Even among elves, that is a long gap.’

‘I understand,’ Frodo said slowly, ‘that the bonds between elves are very strong, so that you are very aware of each other’s state of mind and health.  Does that not reassure you?’

‘It should.’ Elrond gave a little smile. ‘Yet, somehow it does little to reduce the anxiety.’ He sighed. ‘She has told me quite firmly to stop hovering over her.  In fact, she suggested that I go as far away from her as I can until I can stop acting like a mother hen.’  He lowered his head to gaze at the hands clenched in his lap. ‘I have not felt this useless in a long time.’

Frodo felt a surge of concern stirring within him. The elf needed reassurance, and he was still hobbit enough to believe that meant one thing before anything else. ‘I think you need something to eat, Lord Elrond, and a glass of wine.  I will go and fetch you something and then we can talk at greater length.’ 

He hurried along the corridor, wondering what would be most beneficial. Cake, perhaps. Less solid than he would offer to a worried hobbit, but more comforting than the fruit which was all he would expect an elf to eat at this time of day.  Honey cake with sweet wine and the undemanding ear of a friend.  Lord Elrond had spent too much time acting as a prop for others to lean on: perhaps what he needed now was someone to listen to him.

***

As Frodo removed his cloak and brushed from his feet mud stirred up by the early spring rains, he looked up to see the tall graceful figure of Lady Galadriel inspecting him thoughtfully.  She tilted her head and smiled before drawing him into the sunny drawing room. ‘Ah, Frodo,’ she said, her voice soft and musical. ‘I wonder if you would be willing to offer your help to my daughter.’

Frodo bowed slightly. ‘Anything I can do, lady,’ he said, slightly suspiciously, ‘although I cannot imagine what I could possibly do that you cannot.’

She hesitated.  ‘Are you aware that Celebrian is - ,’ she said, shifting the vase of snowdrops and glancing in his direction.

‘That she is with child,’ Frodo stated with some exasperation.  ‘I may be a hobbit rather than an elf, Lady Galadriel, but that doesn’t make me either stupid or blind.  I have seen her grow larger over the last several months and I would say that her time is approaching.’

‘It is not imminent,’ Galadriel told him, turning towards him. ‘Elven babies take longer to grow than hobbits - but it is close enough that Elrond is driving her to distraction.’  She smiled at him with heart-stopping brilliance.  ‘Elrond, I am afraid, believes that he is responsible for every difficulty and inconvenience in the lives of those whom he loves.’  She put her hand on his shoulder and said warmly, ‘You, of all people, should understand that, Frodo, for you are inclined to be that way yourself.’

Frodo nodded stiffly, but did not respond.  She made it sound as if wanting to look after those you loved was a form of self-indulgence, he thought indignantly.

Galadriel bent forward so that their eyes could meet.  ‘Would you be willing to act as a diversion for us?  My daughter requires Elrond’s love and support, but she does not need to be the centre of his attention every minute of every day.  Please can you give him something else to think about?’

Frodo thought about it.  He had himself been a rather central concern of Elrond’s after the Black Rider had injured him and he could see that to be the constant focus of his concentration would be wearing, but, nonetheless, it felt unkind to be plotting against him with his mother-in-law.

‘I will see what I can do to relieve his anxiety,’ he said finally, ‘and to stop him worrying Lady Celebrian.’

With that concession, he turned to leave.  Galadriel smiled to herself. With luck, she thought, both Frodo and Elrond would be so busy distracting each other that Celebrian would finally be able to relax and enjoy the final weeks of her unexpected pregnancy.

***

They stood and looked at the land across the intervening silver-blue water.

‘I am so sorry, Lord Elrond,’ Frodo said apologetically. ‘I had no idea that we would be cut off when the water rose.’

‘It is hardly your fault, my friend,’ the elf replied. ‘Life in the Shire will hardly have given you much experience of tidal causeways. The Baranduin is not the sea.  I, on the other hand, should have known better.  I hope you will not be too distressed to learn that we may be here for some time.’

Frodo shrugged. ‘It doesn’t really matter to me, my lord. No-one is expecting my return and the nights are now warm enough that to spend the night outside will not be unpleasant.  The only thing that worries me is that we didn’t pack enough food to last us until breakfast.’

Elrond laughed. ‘That could be a serious problem to a hobbit!’ He led the way from the waterside to the rather stunted tamarisk they had chosen as a resting place and sat down on the rabbit-nibbled turf.  ‘Frodo,’ he said and paused.

‘Yes, Lord Elrond? What is it?’

‘Do you not think we are well acquainted enough for you to omit the ‘lord’?  It can grow very tiresome. Unless, of course, you would prefer me to address you constantly as ‘Ringbearer’?’

Frodo’s expression was one of horror. ‘I can’t imagine anything I’d like less!’ he said emphatically. ‘I will try,’ he added. ‘It won’t be easy, but I’ll try.’

‘Good,’ Elrond replied.  ‘I will accept that for the moment, although I expect you to be successful in your attempts.’

They sat quietly for a while watching the clouds and listening to the sound of the water as gulls wheeled overhead.

‘My l - , Elrond,’ Frodo said softly, as he sprawled on the grass.  ‘Are you nervous about becoming a father again?’

‘Terrified,’ he sighed. ‘So many years have passed since Arwen was born – I am not the same elf.  Will I be able to cope with the pressures?  I am not sure, Frodo.  I seem to remember thinking at times that confronting Sauron was rather less draining than bringing up Elladan and Elrohir.  And I am concerned for Celebrian. She was so frail when she left for the West.  What if she finds it to be too much for her?’

‘She is very happy,’ Frodo observed. ‘I don’t think she is worrying.’

Elrond smiled wryly. ‘I am worrying quite enough for both of us.’

Frodo laughed. ‘It’ll be all right,’ he insisted cheerfully reassuring. ‘You aren’t really bothered about Lady Celebrian’s health – what’s scaring you is the whole new father thing.’ He lifted his head and looked at Elrond with amusement. ‘You should’ve seen Sam! In fact,’ he closed his eyes, picturing the tall elf lord and sturdy hobbit gardener beside one another, identical expressions on two very different faces, ‘you’d have made a perfect pair.’   

Something had changed in his life, the hobbit thought, as he enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his face.  He rather thought it had been intentional – but he was feeling included, part of the family rather than an honoured guest.  Of course, it helped that Elrond was not his usual authoritative self – it was much easier to feel the equal of an elf on the edge of panic – but for the first time since Bilbo died, he was feeling useful, as if he belonged.

When Elrond woke him, the moon was high in the sky. ‘The tide is low enough, Frodo,’ he insisted. ‘We might have to wade, but we have to leave now.’

Frodo caught the tension in his voice. ‘Is it time?’ he asked.

‘I must get back.  Celebrian wants me there.’

Without saying anything further, Frodo gathered their things together and followed Elrond down to the water.  The causeway was now visible, although the middle section was still underwater.  The rocks gleamed in the moonlight.

‘Be careful,’ Frodo warned. ‘It looks slippery.’

They followed the pathway out to the water’s edge.  ‘I will go first,’ Elrond stated firmly. ‘If it is not too deep, then you may follow.’  He looked at the hobbit. ‘You may have to wait for the water to go down further,’ he said, ‘but I must go on ahead.’

Frodo nodded without comment, watching to see how high the level came.  It was deep enough, but he thought it would not be above his waist and there appeared to be no current.  He stepped carefully into the strip of water. That was another good thing about having hobbit-sized feet, he thought – and about the customary lack of shoes.  Elrond had removed his boots before attempting to ford the crossing, and he was definitely finding the uneven stones uncomfortable underfoot. Even as Frodo thought that, the elf twisted as his foot slid away from him. He splashed noisily into the water, his head disappearing abruptly beneath its surface. Frodo jumped forward and grabbed him, dropping his bag as he did so.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked anxiously, as he pulled the elf up on to the bank.

Elrond coughed the sea water from his lungs and shook his dripping head. ‘I hope I can persuade you to keep this quiet, Frodo. I should never live it down. I keep discovering that it is too easy to underestimate hobbits – and overestimate the abilities of elves. Thank you.’

Frodo laughed.  ‘I wouldn’t say I’ve rescued you from deadly peril, my – Elrond. Although I might have to if we don’t get back to your wife quickly.’

***

Daylight crept early into the library where Frodo waited.  He found himself remembering other times when he had sat and waited for babies to present themselves to the world.  Merry, Pippin, little Elanor. Not a very long list really, but each one of them a vital part of his life. 

He had still been a lad when Merry arrived to warm his heart – a lost lad grieving desperately for his parents.  His aunt had understood him, perhaps better than anyone at that time, and she had willingly offered her new-born son for him to love.  He could never thank her enough for that.  Merry’s devotion had been his salvation.

Then Pip – little Pip – his parents’ precious heir, that shrill, demanding, loving little Took.  He and Merry between them had taught their older cousin to love and protect – and to take responsibility for others.  They’d been his family, those two – and he had let them risk their lives following him towards Mordor.  Frodo closed his eyes in pain.  He couldn’t have stopped them, he knew – in the end, they had chosen their own path, and they had triumphed. 

Elanor, he told himself firmly, remembering her fair face and golden curls and feeling the touch of her soft hand curling round his finger. Her innocence cradled securely in the arms and hearts of her adoring parents. That was what it had been for – that children should be born in a world that was safe. 

And now, he thought.  A world away from the Shire, this new one was to be born. And if Elanor had been his reward, then this elfling was gifted by the Valar to Elrond, to remind him that his long sacrifice had been for a purpose.

He dozed then, worn out by their anxious rush through the night.  The sun rose higher in the sky, bathing the room with light and warmth.  He opened his eyes as the door swung inwards to reveal a rather dishevelled Elrond with a bundle in his arms.

‘Frodo Baggins,’ he said with a dazed, but ecstatic smile, ‘I have brought someone to meet you,’ and he crossed the floor to deposit a small figure into the hobbit’s arms. ‘We have a son,’ he announced.

The infant opened wide blue eyes and stared up into Frodo’s face.  He gazed back in amazement at the perfect features, the tiny pointed ears and the fine fuzz of dark hair.  Time seemed to stop as his heart contracted and then stretched to take in the child before him. 

‘Why, welcome to the world, little one,’ he said, and smiled.