Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search
swiss replica watches replica watches uk Replica Rolex DateJust Watches

Dreamflower's Mathoms I  by Dreamflower

COMFORT BETWEEN FRIENDS

Legolas entered the courtyard of the guesthouse and went to look at the tree in growing there. He had been spending the morning at the gates with Gimli, who was supervising some of the work there, but the Dwarf was far too busy for conversation, and Legolas had little interest in watching the work. So he had returned to the guesthouse. He and Sam had been trying to coax a bit of life into this small garden, and the olive tree which grew in the center was looking a good deal better. But some of the other potted plants which grew here and there were still not as healthy as he would like to have seen. And he had to admit, with small plants rather than trees, Sam had a far surer hand.

He wondered if Sam was inside. He found it very enjoyable to assist the gardener as he pottered around with growing things. The hobbit’s sensibilities about them were fair different than Elven ones, and yet in some ways similar.

He went inside, and called out softly, “Sam?”

There was no response at all; the house was seemingly empty, and Legolas felt disappointed. He turned, and as he did, he heard a soft moan.

It was coming from the little chamber that Frodo used as a study. Originally, it had appeared to be a sort of waiting room for guests located to the right of the front hall, but it had been outfitted with a table and chair of hobbit size, as well as low shelves, filled with books. The benches that ran round the perimeter of the room were filled with cushions. A set of wide arched windows faced the courtyard and allowed plenty of sun and light to enter.

Frodo was sitting at the table, his head pillowed on his arms. A stack of used parchment had been pushed to one side, as had a bottle of ink. His quill was neither in the quill-stand nor the ink bottle, but lay flat upon the table, something Legolas knew that Frodo was not in the habit of doing.

He stepped into the room. “Frodo? Mellon nin? What is wrong?

Frodo sat up abruptly, and then, elbows on the table, he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “Legolas? I did not know you were here.” he said quietly.

In two short strides the Elf was stooping at Frodo’s side. He placed a cool hand to Frodo’s brow. “What is wrong?” he repeated. “Should I go and find Aragorn? Or Sam?”

Frodo started to shake his head, and then stopped. “No. No, don’t do that. Aragorn and Arwen should not be disturbed so soon after the wedding--it‘s only been a couple of days. And Menelcar came by and asked us to walk about the City with him. I told Sam to go ahead without me, for I wanted to do some writing.”

“What about your cousins, then? Or Mithrandir?”

“Merry and Pippin are both on duty. And I’ve not a clue where Gandalf is-- you know how that is.” He took his hands down from his eyes and winced at the light. “Don’t bother about me. It’s only a headache.”

“Do not be foolish, Frodo. If no one else is here, then of course I will ‘bother’ with you! A headache that pains you so is not to be taken lightly.” He put his hand to the back of Frodo’s neck, where he could feel the muscles hard and tensed. “Here, let me make you more comfortable.”

Without another word, he lifted Frodo, who made a half-hearted sound of protest, and carried him over to one of the cushioned benches. “I shall return in a moment.”

Legolas was worried. Perhaps he should override Frodo’s wishes and send for Aragorn, or at least for a healer. But he knew the hobbit would be terribly embarrassed at that amount of attention. He went into the kitchen. Somewhere? Yes--there in the cupboard--there was the willow-bark powder they kept on hand. He found the teakettle. He had never brewed tea before, but he had been observing the hobbits do so for weeks. While the kettle was heating, he found some clean cloths, which he wet with cold water, and he found some fruit, which he cut into small pieces and put upon a plate. Soon he had all on a tray, which he carried back into the little chamber.

Frodo was leaning back against the cushions, his right forearm covering his eyes. He moved it away as he heard Legolas return.

Legolas put the tray on the table, and carried the cup of tea over to Frodo, who sipped it gratefully, and ate a few slices of peach, a couple of strawberries, and a segment of the orange fruit of which the hobbits had become so fond.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You have no reason to be sorry, Frodo. I am glad to do this for you.”

“I’m just so much trouble,” responded the hobbit.

“I think not.” Legolas smiled and kept his voice mild, although it bothered him to hear Frodo speaking that way. “Are you finished with the fruit?”

At Frodo’s tiny nod, Legolas took the plate, and moved it back to the table, and took up one of the cloths. He sat down on the bench next to Frodo. “Here, place your head in my lap.” As Frodo did so, Legolas put the cloth over his eyes. “Is that better?” he asked.

“Yes,” Frodo said. “The light was bothering them a good deal.”

Legolas looked down at Frodo affectionately. He had grown so fond of the hobbits over the months they had been together, but thinking of all this one had endured made his eyes sting with tears. Anything he could do to help Frodo, however great or small, he would.

Remembering what he had seen of the hobbits together, and what they did to comfort one another when troubled, hurt or ill, he placed his slender fingers on Frodo’s brow, and began to gently smooth the dark curls. He could feel him relaxing at the motion, and began to sing to him softly--a translation Bilbo had done of an Elven song of the West:

“East of the Moon, west of the Sun
There stands a lonely hill;
It feet are in the pale green sea,
It’s towers are white and still
Beyond Taniquetil
In Valinor.
Comes never there but one lone star
That fled before the moon;
And there the Two Trees naked are
That bore Night’s silver bloom,
That bore the globéd fruit of Noon
In Valinor.
There are the shores of Faëry
With their moonlight pebbled strand
Whose foam is silver music
On the opalescent floor
Beyond the great sea-shadows
On the marches of the sand
That stretches on forever
To the dragonheaded door,
The gateway of the Moon,
In Valinor.
West of the Sun, east of the Moon
Lies the haven of the star
The white town of the Wanderer
And the rocks of Eglamar.
The Wingelot is harbored,
While Eärendil looks afar
O’er the darkened waters
Between here and Eglamar--
Out, out, beyond Taniquetil
In Valinor afar.”
*

When he had finished the song in Westron, he began it once more, this time in Sindarin.

As Frodo lay, feeling the long cool fingers drifting through his curls, he could feel the pain and tension draining away. The song seemed to enter his mind, taking away the dark thoughts brought on, as he had been writing of that dreadful passage through Moria and the encounter with the Balrog. Instead, he seemed to hear the surge of the surf, and feel the pull of waves. He could see, as though he were a bird in flight, the green shores of the Blessed Isle, and he felt borne aloft, as though by comforting arms. There was such piercing joy and such beautiful pain in the song…

As Legolas sang, he could feel his own tears running down his cheeks--it was the longing for the Sea, yet this time, it felt sorrowful, but not distressing, giving him instead a melancholy solace. It was painful, but yet, one day he would be able to assuage his longing. And right now, he had his mortal friends who yet needed him…

It was not long after, that Gandalf entered the house. He heard the singing, and stopped at the door to the chamber. Frodo was sleeping peacefully, his head in Legolas’ lap, the long fingers still combing his curls.

Legolas met Gandalf’s eyes briefly, and the Wizard smiled gently at him, before turning away.

_______________________________________________

* From The Book of Lost Tales, Part Two , Chapter V, “The Tale of Eärendil”, “The Shores of Faëry”
 





<< Back

Next >>

Leave Review
Home     Search     Chapter List