A Measure of Peace by StarSpray

A Measure of Peace

Read A Measure of Peace

“There are so many stories more beautiful than answers.” - Mary Oliver

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Minas Tirith was filled with songs and re-tellings of the deeds and adventures of Frodo of the Nine Fingers and his companion, who entered into Mordor and destroyed the One Ring, bringing about at long last the utter defeat of the Dark Lord. Few of those deeds were really true—or only true in part—as was the case in all such songs, especially those written so soon afterward.

The shadows behind Frodo’s eyes spoke of a much darker and sadder tale. He smiled often, and never more brightly than when he laughed and refused to tell a tale of his adventures when called upon in some gathering or another. Arwen saw how the other halflings gathered around him, throwing up their own stories and jokes as a shield against further questions.

She spoke to her father, but Elrond could only shake his head. “There are no arts in Middle-earth that can fully heal him,” he said. “He carried the Ring too long, and too deeply into the land of the Enemy.” It was an echo of another, older grief; even Elrond’s power had not been enough to heal Celebrían—but Frodo did not have the same chance. “We can only hope he finds a measure of peace when he returns to his own lands.”

Unless. Arwen sat long in thought beneath the stars that shone as brightly down upon Minas Tirith now as they ever had upon Rivendell far in the north. She watched the rising and setting of Gil-Estel, thinking of her grandfather and her grandmother, who had set mortal foot upon Valinor after undertaking a quest no less desperate than Frodo’s—yet perhaps less treacherous. She rose from her seat and sought out Mithrandir, finding him humming softly to himself as he blew smoke rings up into the branches of the White Tree. “Mithrandir,” she said, sitting beside him.

“My lady,” he replied, turning to her with a knowing look in his eyes. “How may I be of service to you?”

“I wish to speak to you of Frodo Baggins,” said Arwen. Mithrandir nodded, and put away his pipe.

The next afternoon, Arwen gave to Frodo a white gem over which she had sung many songs of healing and of peace, and hoped that it would not be too long before he found other and better comforts.