"That must be the end of it," Merry said when Frodo told him and Pippin of his conversation with Elspar; Frodo had found his cousins sitting in the garden together after he left the gallery, but things between them still appeared to be strained. "You've done all you possibly can for the dead Elf, Frodo. You told the other one how he died, gave him that pin. What more could he want?"
Frodo hoped that Merry was right this time, and yet he felt that it wasn't finished.
The three hobbits said good-night and went to their separate rooms. When he awoke later that night to find an Elf standing at the foot of his bed, Frodo first thought he was having another dream. Then he realized that Elspar was really there.
"Do I disturb you, Little One?" Elspar asked.
"No, it's all right." Frodo sat up, drowsily brushing his hair from his eyes. "What do you want?"
"I need your aid. I have sought to find Dadenmiel from afar, but he is beyond my sight. You have a bond with his spirit and can see him in a way I cannot. Will you assist me?"
"Yes, of course. What can I do?"
"Come to me." Elspar sat down in a chair by the windows. Frodo rose from the bed and went to stand before him. The Elf picked him up to sit in his lap, and put both arms loosely around him so that they could both hold the brooch; his own long-fingered, bone-slender hands closed over the hobbit's smaller hands. Elspar gazed out of the windows toward the southeast, in the direction of Minas Tirith, hundreds of miles away. Long, silent minutes passed, and Frodo shut his own eyes and let his head rest against Elspar's chest.
He almost thought he'd fallen back to sleep in the Elf's arms, but he was aware of the room around him, the hands that enclosed his, cool to the touch and light as a brush of feathers, and the bright glint of green that shone between their nested fingers. There was a glimmer of light like a candle's flame reflected in the heart of the gemstone... or was it the sunrise? Had they sat up all night?
No, it was a flame, the light of a torch burning at the top of the stairwell in the western tower of the great hall of Minas Tirith's citadel. He was standing at the foot of the stairs, in the passage beneath the hall, as he'd been in his dreams before. Frodo began to understand that somehow Elspar was using his connection with the dead Elf and ability to see what Dadenmiel had seen, and combining it with his own Far-Seeing.
Above in the great hall, voices were raised in anger, Elspar's and Lord Aiglemerth's. Aiglemerth accused the Elves of putting some sort of enchantment over his son to corrupt and mislead him, an accusation that Elspar objected to fiercely.
"They are in love, lord steward. That is the same for your kind as ours."
"Not quite the same! You can't tell me you're happy to leave your catamite behind, unless you have something to gain by his loss."
"He is free to do as he wishes, to stay or go."
"That remains to be seen. You, however, shall go now. I will rid myself of one meddlesome Elf this night, if not two." There was a sound of heavy boots on the floor above.
"Elspar-!" Frodo heard a third voice shout, but this was nearer, almost as if he'd spoken himself. Was it Dadenmiel's?
He started up the stair, when a dark shape blocked the light of the torch and a shadow was cast down upon him. Aiglemerth stood at the top of the stair. Frodo would have recognized him even if he hadn't known who Elspar had gone to meet: The face carved on the effigy was a good likeness, although Aiglemerth at this time was some fifty years younger and the hard lines had not yet cut so deeply into his face. "Ah," he said. "The other one. I did not expect to find you here. Your companion has gone."
"What have you done with him?" that voice that must be Dadenmiel's demanded.
"Elspar? He's being escorted from the city, as you will also be shortly," Aiglemerth answered as he descended the stair. "I won't have you here any longer. You've had the King's answer and been sent on your way. Leave now, and seek not to seduce my son into your plans."
"Seduce?" Frodo turned, and saw another figure behind him, coming forward from the long, unlit tunnel beneath the courtyard. It was a young Man, broad-shouldered and dark-haired, boyishly handsome. This must be Aigande. "And how is that different, Father, from what you would have me do with Cirya? If Dadenmiel must leave, then I will go with him. It is what I wish to do."
"Shall we go?" said Dadenmiel. "Tonight."
"Tonight." Aigande smiled and held out a hand toward him. Then his expression changed to one of shock and disbelief. He cried out, "Father, no-!"
Frodo felt a sharp pain, as if he had been stabbed in his back, and he fell forward into the arms of the young Man, who caught him. They sank to the floor. Aigande gazed down at him with wild, tearful, agonized eyes and tried to raise him, to aid him somehow; he tried to speak, but there was a warmth rising in his throat that choked the words. Aiglemerth stood over them, watching silently, and then turned at the sound of boot-steps coming down the stair. Another shadow-shape blocked the light.
The last thing he saw before the darkness closed in over him was a figure on the stair, fair hair lit to bright gold by the torchlight behind him. A horrified voice spoke, "Oh, Aigande..."
Then everything went black.
"We have seen the truth of it," said Elspar. "Grant thee rest now, my Dadenmiel."
Frodo no longer saw through Dadenmiel's eyes, but saw Dadenmiel himself for the first time. The hood of the cloak thrown was back, and Frodo wondered that he could ever have confused one Elf with the other. Dadenmiel's face was not a white mask of death, but a living one, as beautiful as Arwen had said, and smiling softly. Then he was gone.
Frodo opened his eyes. He was himself again, separate from that long-dead Elf and haunted by him no longer. He was in his room at Rivendell, in Elspar's lap with the Far Seer's arms around him and the brooch still clasped in his hands.
"So that was what really happened," he said. No ruffians, no accidental stabbing, but a cold-blooded, deliberate act to keep Aigande from leaving with the Elves; at least, he'd guessed that much correctly. "That Man on the stair at the last--was that Ciryaher, the King?"
"It was," confirmed Elspar.
Another part of the mystery became clear. "He must have thought Aigande killed Dadenmiel," Frodo said. "That's why he helped to keep the murder secret--he was protecting the son, not the father!" Had Aigande tried to tell the truth, he wondered, or had Aiglemerth spoken more swiftly while his son was too stunned and grief-stricken to say what had actually happened, and found himself helplessly trapped? He recalled that sobbing figure he and Merry had seen that night, and imagined of the depth of despair that Aigande must have felt after Dadenmiel's death.
"It is what Dadenmiel meant me to know." As Elspar rose from his chair, he lifted Frodo and set him down on the floor with a single smooth and graceful motion. The Elf's face was wet with tears, but he too was smiling. "He will be at peace now in the Halls of Mandos, and perhaps that other youth is with him. Thank you, Little One. I will go into the West when Lord Elrond departs, but I shall be lonely for all eternity without the one I love best."
At these words, Frodo felt a stab of sorrow that had nothing to do with the Elves. After Elspar had gone, he curled up in his bed and burst into tears.
He too would go into the West. Not this coming autumn, but one day not far in the future when he was, like Elspar, too overcome by his wounds and too weary to go on living in Middle-earth. It would be a welcome escape; to be healed was better than dying in pain. But there was a price: While he would have a few dear friends with him--Gandalf, Uncle Bilbo--he would never see the Shire again, nor any other hobbits. None of his family. Not Merry, nor Pippin. Not Sam.
"What's wrong, Frodo?" Hearing Frodo's sobs, Merry had come along the balcony outside their rooms and in though the windows. "I saw that Elf come in awhile ago. What did he say to you?"
"Nothing! He only wanted me to help him put his friend to rest." As Merry climbed into bed beside him, Frodo held onto him tightly; he didn't want to be alone tonight after all. "I just realized that the Lady's gift to me has a bite to it. I won't have to die. I'll live, perhaps forever, but I'm going to be awfully lonely all that time..."
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