Frodo awoke slowly from a place of peace and gentle music. He could not remember ever awakening so refreshed and for some time he simply lay still, listening to a beautiful melody that seemed to play both within and without his head. As he rose gently to the surface of awakening he began to realise that the music without was of fair voices speaking in an elvish tongue and that the melody within him was spun from the melody without.

Curiosity finally drew him up from the dream and he blinked open his eyes at last. His eyes focussed upon the familiar face of Bilbo, smiling down at him.

"Feeling better?"

For a few moments Frodo could not recall where he was or how he had arrived here. But politeness bid him reply at once, "I feel very well, Uncle."

"He has slept it off, then. That is well."

The voice spoke Westron but with a cadence that made it sound like the fairest of music and Frodo blinked in awe as his gaze travelled up the tall, tall form and came to rest upon the fairest face he had ever beheld. Had that being not reached out a hand to restrain him gently Frodo would have leapt to his feet, for surely this was one of the Valar come to Middle earth. Or perhaps he was dead and had come to the end of days.

Once again, good manners came to his rescue and he managed to whisper, "Êl síla nan lû e-govannen vín."

Bilbo coughed, "'Govaded' lad. You have just told him that a star shines on the occasion of our 'met'."

Frodo blushed but the fair one only laughed softly. "It was well said for one yet a pupil and I am honoured to be addressed in my own tongue." He touched hand to heart and tilted his head with a welcoming smile. "Mea govannin, Frodo, Son of Drogo. I am called Celfin, Son of Celbar."

Now it was Bilbo's turn to blush. "Where are my manners? I do apologise. It was my place to introduce you both but I was so worried about Frodo that it seems my wits have scattered to the four winds."

Frodo could not help but join Celfin in laughter. It was not often that Bilbo Baggins was caught short when it came to manners. But when the laughter died away memory flooded in and Frodo sat up. "I was poorly," he stated in surprise. He raised a hand to his temple and found no tenderness. Then he turned his head this way and that, discovering no pain or floating lights. "How long was I asleep?"

"But a few hours. Do you suffer any lingering symptoms?" Celfin asked as he drew off Frodo's blanket and began to fold it.

"No. The headache has completely gone." He flexed his hands. "Even the numbness has gone." His eyes widened. "Is this elven magic? Have you cured me?" he asked hopefully.

Celfin shook his head. "I have not such magic. I merely provided your body with respite enough to recover itself."

Frodo's face fell for a moment but then he considered how fortunate he was that Celfin had been able to help him at all, out here in the wilds. At least, this felt like the wilds to a hobbit bred to fine homes and feather beds. That was when he noticed that he was not sitting upon the damp earth but upon a bed woven of the living branches of a tree, bent low to the ground and padded thickly with sweet smelling bracken. "Well, thank you for what you have done. I don't want to consider how we would have coped if you hadn't found us."

"Oh, it was not I who discover you, but rather Master Bilbo who found us. He would make a good tracker if ever he took to hunting. We elves are not the easiest folk to find, although there I believe our singing gave us away." Celfin set the folded blanket aside and offered Frodo a hand up. "Do not move too swiftly. You have been prone for several hours."

However, when Frodo stood he found no sign of the usual aftermath of one of his headaches or from his long sleep. Indeed, he felt better than he had in a long time. "Please excuse me, but I must do this or I will burst." With that he threw his arms up and wide, stretching his fingers to the treetops and arching his back like a cat.

"From that, I take it that you are feeling much recovered." Celfin chuckled softly then led him to the centre of their camp where a merry fire flickered and food lay ready. Frodo and Bilbo ate their share and more, when it was pressed upon them. There was a hot but delicately seasoned watercress soup, followed by soft bread, with honey more sweet and fragrant than Frodo had ever tasted. Finally there were pears and apples so juicy that the hobbits had to keep wiping their chins. All was washed down with refreshing crystal cold water or little cups of mead.

Throughout it all Celfin and his companions encouraged Frodo to use his halting Sindarin, correcting so mildly his syntax and pronunciation that the lad felt no censure and often chuckled at his errors.

"Where are you bound," Frodo asked as he took a sip of the one cup of fragrant mead that Bilbo has allowed him, and felt its warmth course through him.

Celfin poured a little more into Bilbo's cup. "We journey to the Havens to the west of your lands. You will often find our folk in these woods at the spring and autumn of the year, when the tides are at their highest."

At the thought of such beautiful beings leaving the world Frodo felt sorrow grip his heart. "Are many of you leaving?"

"Aye, Little One. We grow weary of this land and wish to see again the towers and shining shores of our home." Celfin smiled. "But do not fear. You have not seen the last of my folk for, although we are not as many as once roamed this land, there are enough yet to fill a perrian's life with teachers." He glanced aside. "Even a perrian as long lived as Bilbo Baggins."

Bilbo only took a large swallow of his mead.

A little while later, when all the food was consumed, instruments were produced and Frodo was treated to the sound of elven voices raised in song. They sung in an ancient language Frodo did not understand and Bilbo translated for him at first. But as the music wove its magic he found that words were not needed for images formed and reformed in his mind.

He saw spires of silver and white against a clear blue sky, and lands so green that they almost hurt his eyes to look upon. Then there was the sea, blue and still as Sandyman's millpond, wild and white capped or green as the deepest lake. Small as he was, Frodo felt himself shrink even further against the vastness of such a sight. He was both afraid and yet drawn to the sight.

When he returned to his senses it was to find that the fire was dying. The music had paused and Frodo glanced up to find that Ithil was already dipping down toward the land. He thought he had taken his fill of sleep but as Bilbo and Celfin helped him back to his bed he made no protest and slumber drifted down about his shoulders like a soft and welcome mantle.

Just as the sky began to lighten Frodo was awakened by Celfin. He tucked a small vial into Frodo's hand. "Take five drops when you break your fast. It will perform the same function as your tea and there is sufficient here for three days. I am sorry that I cannot gift you with more healing than this but at least it is sufficient to see you returned safely to your home."

"Thank you. And don't be sorry. This has been one of the most precious experiences of my life." Frodo placed his hand upon his heart as he had seen Celfin do. "Navaer. Harthon gerithach aeair vilui."

"Well said." Celfin returned the gesture. "Navaer. Harthon gerithach raid gelin a chwest adel thraw lín." Then he joined the rest of his folk and Frodo watched them fade into the trees like mist upon a dawn lake.

oOo

Frodo threw the last plant into Sam's barrow and rose, brushing dirt from his knees.

"Are you sure about this, Mr Frodo?"

Frodo grinned, slapping Sam on the back. "Absolutely. I haven't had one of those beastly headaches since just after Bilbo left and I stopped taking the tea nearly two years ago, although I said nothing at the time."

"Well, I'm right pleased, Sir. I remember you being poorly quite a few times when you first came to Bag End. It broke my heart to see you laid so low."

"Well, I'm disgustingly hale and hearty now. So it's time to plant some nice snapdragons in that bed."

A fine chain ran from Frodo's belt to his pocket and now he slipped a hand inside that breeches pocket as he sauntered back up the path to Bag End's open door.

END

Êl síla nan lû e-govaded vín. = A star shines on the occasion of our meeting.

Navaer. = Farewell.

Harthon gerithach aeair vilui. = I hope you will have kind seas.

Harthon gerithach raid gelin a chwest adel thraw lín. = I hope you will have green paths and a breeze behind you.

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