CHAPTER 10

Frodo stood watching his companions as they checked their luggage and ponies. It was a cold damp October morning and he had decided to wait within the shelter of the porch, for Sam had flatly refused to let his master saddle his own pony.

As he hugged the fine elven cloak more closely about him, familiar gentle warmth touched his mind and he turned, peering back into the relative gloom of the hallway. The door to Lord Elrond's study stood open and its owner waited, outlined in a square of weak sunshine from the room behind him. Frodo stepped out into the yard and tapped Sam on the shoulder.

"I'm just going to have a final word with Master Elrond. I won't be long."

Sam glanced up briefly from where he was adjusting his pony's girth under the watchful eye of Elladan. "Right you are, Mr Frodo."

Frodo slipped back down the hall and Elrond held open the door and waved him in.

Over the past two weeks the small private study was a room that Frodo had come to know quite well and it felt as comfortable to him now as his own study had once been in Bag End. The healer waited while Frodo took his accustomed seat in one of the finely upholstered armchairs by the fire noting that the footstool had been placed ready for him so that his feet did not dangle off the floor, and Elrond sat opposite.

A strong fire blazed in the hearth and Frodo pushed his cloak aside a little. He suspected that it had been laid especially for him for elves did not feel the cold. Ever since Weathertop, however, Frodo had seemed particularly susceptible to the chill autumn weather and on every occasion that he had visited Elrond in this room he had found a fire set in the grate to welcome him.

The elf offered him a cup of fragrant camomile tea. "Have you said your goodbye's to Bilbo?"

Frodo sipped the warm sweet tea savouring the soft, mellow taste, reminiscent of toffee, which he had come to associate with comfort. "We all went to his room, earlier. It didn't seem fair to ask him to come out in the cold to see us off."

Elrond smiled, an expression rarely bestowed on anyone beyond the confines of this room. "He will be sorry to see you leave."

"Will he?" Frodo took another sip of his tea. "I wonder if he will even remember that I was here by this time tomorrow. Dear Bilbo." It was a comment that would have been filled with bitterness less than two weeks ago but now it was spoken only wistfully.

"I think he will remember, Little One. And if he does not, I will remind him," the elf assured him.

Frodo spoke, over the rim of his cup. "Thank you for looking after him all these years. I would take him back to the Shire with us but it is a long journey and I'm not even sure that I will have a house to go back to. I have been away for so long."

"Bilbo will always be welcome in my household, as will you."

From the floor at the side of his chair Elrond lifted a small, leather bound book, which he presented in one slender hand. "I had this made for you."

Setting down his cup on a table at the side of his chair, Frodo accepted the book. On it's green cover was set, in gold, the elven runes for the letters FB and inside it was filled with blank pages of fine cream paper, edged in gold.

"Thank you, Lord Elrond. It's beautiful." Frodo laid it in his lap. "I'm afraid I have no gift for you in return. There was not time to arrange anything. I hope you will forgive me."

"There is one gift that you can give me Frodo…a promise."

"Anything. You have done so much for me."

"Promise me that whenever you are feeling overwhelmed by events you will write your thoughts down in that book. I may not be able to be there with you in person but imagine that by writing them in the book you are talking to me, as you have these recent days. And . . . if you really need to talk to me you can reach me within a few days . . . for as long as I remain in Middle Earth." He paused a moment. "I wish I could stay many years for you but I have already tarried too long on these shores."

From a pocket hidden with the folds of his robe he produced a small wooden box, which he handed to Frodo. Opening the lid, the hobbit found several tiny silver cylinders; each tied with a fine silken thong. He looked up at the elf in confusion.

"The next party of elves to leave here for the Grey Havens will carry with it a basket containing two doves. They will be delivered to your door when they reach the Shire. If you need me, slip your message into the cylinder and tie it to the leg of one of the doves, then release it. The bird will fly straight to me here, and I will come in answer. You will find me in the Woody End, near the place where you first met Gildor.

Tears sprang afresh to Frodo's eyes. "You would do that for me?"

Elrond's face showed surprise. "Why would I not? I offered you my friendship and that is what a friend would do, is it not?"

"Oh, Lord Elrond. When I was first told that you were a healer I thought only to have the wound on my shoulder healed and I was content with that. But, since my return . . . Since . . . you have done so much more. You have helped to heal my heart; in as much as it can be healed. And you have given me the strength to go on." Frodo rose and came to stand before the elf lord, bowing as formally as he knew how.

"I am honoured that you consider me a friend and I offer you my friendship in return . . . if you will have it."

The Lord of Imladris placed his hand over Frodo's heart. "I am, in turn, honoured to accept your offer of friendship, Master Frodo Baggins of the Shire." As he drew back his hand he smiled once more and stood. "And now you must away to your other friends lest they become concerned at your absence."

Frodo popped the small box into his coat pocket and followed the tall elf to the door. Turning, he took one last look at the room that had offered him so much comfort, then he followed Elrond down the hall and out onto the wide porch.

Gandalf and Pippin were already seated and were watching, with some amusement, as Elrohir helped Merry mount. There had apparently been some joking going on for Merry and Elrohir were grinning broadly. Sam stood, holding the reins of his own and Frodo's pony, listening while Elladan explained something about the bridle.

Standing on the threshold, Frodo turned to Elrond one last time. "Thank you, again and goodbye. I hope to return to visit Bilbo."

Elrond's eyes grew dark and, suddenly, he was a mighty elven lord. He placed both hands upon Frodo's hair and the little hobbit bowed his head.

"May your journey be filled with joyful meetings and sweet consolation at parting. And when you reach the end of your road, may you find peace."

Lifting his hands he added, in a soft voice that only Frodo could hear, "I think, Frodo, that maybe you will not need to come back, unless you come very soon. For about this time of year, when the leaves are gold before they fall, look for Bilbo in the woods of the Shire. I shall be with him and, if your burden is still too great, you may join your uncle on his last great journey.

Blinking back his tears once more Frodo bowed quickly and turned for his pony, slipping the slim book into his saddlebag. As they turned to leave the courtyard Sam nudged his pony alongside his master's.

"Look what Master Elrond gave me for you." Sam held out a small earthenware jar, its lid sealed firmly with wax. On a label was the word "Honey", in flowing Quenyan script. Frodo imagined he knew what it would smell like when opened and his eyes filled with unshed tears that Elrond would think to comfort him thus.

"Are you alright, Mr Frodo?"

Frodo took a deep breath, inhaling the cool and subtle fragrance of Imladris in its autumn finery and it seemed to fill his heart and soul with peace.

"You know Sam, I think I am. I am more "alright" than I have felt for many weeks and I am ready to go home." He smiled.

As they rode through the gate Frodo turned in his saddle.

On the steps, framed by the elegant architecture of the porch, stood the tall grey clad figure of the Lord of Imladris, flanked by his sons. Frodo lifted his hand to wave and Elrond raised his arm in return, the low morning sun glinting blue off a jewel on his finger.

And for a moment Frodo thought a warm breeze blew to him the sweet and comforting scent of honeyed toffee.

THE END.

Many, many thanks to all those of you who have reviewed this tale. I am afraid this ending is rather bitter sweet when you know what happened next but I didn't want to leave you on a sad note.