by Silent Draco
Bilbo and Frodo were both healed of all hurt, injury, and spiritual ill they took from bearing and resisting the Master-Ring. All shadows were cleansed from mind and heart, and sorrow replaced with understanding, wisdom, and regret. For among those sorrows and regret was the knowledge that they would never return to Hither Shore, to Middle-Earth.
Bilbo had the easier time of it. As Olorin deposited them at the entry to Lorien, two other healers came to greet him: red-clad Romendië, with golden hair wreathing his face, and Sudominë, with Artis (her companion cat) twining about first her and then Bilbo’s feet. “Good day, Young One!” spoke Romendië with a slight bow, “Word came swiftly to us: three Pherianiiath were in need of urgent care and healing.” Bilbo blinked, and went to take a step forward. A sudden “MROWR!” and whap of a tail halted him. “Oh, dear … my, what a pretty kitty you are!” Bilbo exclaimed, scooping up the black and white tabby. “And what a friendly kitty, too,” he laughed, as Artis purred deeply and stropped her head on his sleeve. Sudominë smiled in greeting and relief; Artis had already sensed the hurt was but little, and faded, in this one. She asked in a clear alto voice, “Master Baggins, we have some simple refreshments waiting in the pavilion to our right; would you please join us for some tea?” Bilbo saw an enchanting little pavilion, hedged round with low holly bushes and having clematis and morning glory vines as walls for its sage-colored timbers.
After a first round of small seed-cakes, scones and jam, and tea, Bilbo sat back, much easier in heart and spirit. “The tea is fragrant and lovely,” he said, thanking them for their hospitality. Romendië nodded in thanks, “The tea is one of our own quiet delights: a blend of lavender, feverfew, and lemon peel. This is calming and delightful on its own, and perfect with light fare. Ah! Let me suggest one of the cheese and leek crisps, also, along with the hone-cakes.” A few (well, several more than a few) slightly sticky moments later, Bilbo exclaimed: “You are most wonderful hosts, and I fear I was severely tested and in need of refreshment.” Romendië and Sudominë nodded and smiled, “Verily, very few are those of Hither Shore who have repaired to our lands. We can only consider a bare handful who were in such a place of perilous honor as your three,” continued Romandie, who added guardedly, “And none who reacted in such fashion to the good will of the Valar.”
Bilbo blinked, then sputtered “I guess it all came back to that silly ring I found, all those years ago. It was a useful enough trinket for some time, but always with a mischief of its own. No sooner had I found it than Gollum tired to cheat and kill me, and then a party of goblins and Orcs saw me when it dropped off.” Sudominë excused herself for a fer minutes, and Romendië asked with raised eyebrows, “Would not the mischief and tricks it played give yio an indication that it may have been more than a ‘simple magic ring’? And if I may inquire, for what other purposes di you use it?” Bilbo asked for another cup of the delightful tea; sitting back after a couple sips, he recounted, “Used it? Mostly, I used it to hide from unwelcome visitors or from perils, to be unseen even more than what we hobbits can accomplish on our own. Gollum, indeed, was the one who whispered its secrets, having missed me in the darkness.”
Sudominë returned, noting that Olorin had conversed with her in torrential detail about Bilbo and the full tale of his acquiring the Ring. He sat back, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Yes, well … Gandalf was right about that, and many other things. I did owe my closest friends some better explanation, and the truth, about finding it in the dark. Oh, bother Gandalf and Thorin for taking me as Expert Burglar! But no, it was a most marvelous Adventure, and I made some very good friends, and was Back Again just in time.”
“Tell me more of this creature, Gollum,” urged Sudominë. “Olorin noted that you leapt over him and ran away, leaving him to wail at his fate. You were not seen and has a sword; were you not tempted to slay him quietly? No one would know.” Bilbo set down his teacup with a definite clink. “I was tempted, yes, for he had cheated abominably at the Riddle Game and was planning to kill me. But then he sounded so wretched, talking to himself (or was it to his Precious?) as he hunted me down unknown passages. He was all alone there, forgotten, in his little cave on an islet in that lake. No guests, no cheery fire or hot tea, just cold, dark, and whatever he could grab as food. But the riddles he used: they were much the same as the ones of my youth, too. Well, I could have put his lights out then, but suddenly I felt pity for the poor creature; I wouldn’t slay him in cold blood like that, but tried to sneak about him.”
Rimendie asked more about the Riddle Game, and the conundrums used, “were some of these learned from other travelers once, perhaps before he was ensconced under the mountain?” Bilbo mused, considering that it was possible, but that Gandalf had other ideas about that eventually. “Indeed, he might have been a very distant relative, one driven out and left behind many, many years previously. The riddles were much the same, in structure and subject, although one gave me pause for a moment.
Alive without breath,
As cold as death,
Never thirsting
Ever drinking,
All in mail, never clinking.
Then a fortuitous fish landed on my toes and startled me to solve it. Frodo added more of the riddle, that Gollum sang later. Oh yes, come to think of it …
Swam up a cool stream,
Cavern without gleam.
Abide there to feast
On strider, at least.
Seeing naught the Sun awaking,
Cool, deep water, never quaking.
Now, what made me think that?” he finished, puzzled. Beyond their pavilion, that bright waters of a streamlet and fountain gurgled and babbled as if in time with the riddle verses. Romendië and Sudominë glanced at each other and the fountain, then rose and bowed as one.
“Young One, please come quickly, and lave you face and hands in the fountain,” they urged. Bilbo rose with a mild complaint of old joints, and wobbled out with them. It was a modest device, argent colored, with water rising up to be cast as from a sower’s seed-bag in jets and freshets, falling into a modest basin, then trickling out and down a small stream. He did as instructed, then spluttered as Romendië handed him a towel. “Goodness! That was quite cold!” “Master Bilbo, how do you feel now?” they inquired. Bilbo blinked at them in the sunlight; they seemed a bit sharper and more intense than a few moments before, almost as if some layer od dust was swept off a window. “I am fine; no, more than fine. I feel refreshed a bit more, and cleaner, somehow, in my heart.” “But what of your old Ring?” she asked. After a moment more, Bilbo shrugged. “That silly thing? Gandalf took great pains to help me part with it once, but after all it was such a nuisance at times. No, well-shot of it am I, and I would not care to see it again. Nor would I have need of it, anyhow!” The healers relaxed and escorted Bilbo in for more tea and small bites. They spoke of flowers, told riddles, and had him describe his Adventure down to the last verse. While Bilbo was happily delivering his great story to a new and appreciative audience, they spoke mind to mind, thoughts stirring: One Who rarely takes His seat in the Ring of Doom had worked most subtly here, choosing and protecting His instrument. All this was accomplished in, around, and by waters. Bilbo, now Cleansed, was in no further need of healing – except, possibly, of an overly loquacious tongue.
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Find Previous Chapters Here:
Chapter 11 – Part 2 Chapter 11 – Part 1
Chapter 10 – Part 2 Chapter 10 – Part 1
Chapter 9 – Part 2 Chapter 9 – Part 1
Chapter 8 – Part 2 Chapter 8 – Part 1
Chapter 7 – Part 2 Chapter 7 – Part 1
Chapter 6 – Part 2 Chapter 6 – Part 1
Chapter 5 – Part 4 Chapter 5 – Part 3
Chapter 5 – Part 2 Chapter 5 – Part 1
Chapter 4 – Part 2 Chapter 4 – Part 1
Chapter 3 – Part 2 Chapter 3 – Part 1
Chapter 2 – Part 3 Chapter 2 – Part 2
Chapter 2 – Part 1 Chapter 1