Story title: "Eventide" Author: Tulip Proudfoot (i.e. [email protected])

Chapter Rating: PG Timeframe: post 1491 S.R.; story based upon "Pretty Good Year" Please be warned that this story will quickly evolve into an "R" rating.

Chapter 1: Elanor

"But Mom....please? May I please stay here for a little while longer? I'm not sleepy. I can stay awake."

"Elanor, you know it's already long past your bedtime," Rose gently ushered her eldest child out of the bedside chair. "And keep your voice down, please. You don't want to wake Uncle Frodo."

"But Mom...What if Uncle Fo needs me?"

"No buts about it, young lady," Rose sternly whispered and closed the bedroom door behind them. Mother and daughter stood in the darkened corridor. Elanor could see faint candlelight coming from the opened door to her own bedroom down the hallway.

Uncle Frodo was ill. Very ill. He had been running a fever for four days now. Sam-Dad and Rose-Mom had sent the rest of the Gardner children to stay with Aunt Marigold and Uncle Tom so they could look after Elanor's beloved Uncle Fo. Elanor had finally convinced her parents that she would be an invaluable help to them. She was all of thirteen now, and could cook and clean and help out and... well...do whatever needed to be done for Uncle Fo. She was very grown up for a young hobbit-lass. She wouldn't be a bother at all! Not like the rest of her usually annoying brothers and sisters. She could help, couldn't she?

After a bit of discussion, Sam-Dad and Rose-Mom agreed, but only if she did exactly as they instructed, and 'No grumbling about it either, young missy.' That was Mom. She always said things like that.

But now Mom was tired and worried. So was Elanor, but she wouldn't admit it to her mother. Sam, Rose and Elanor were taking turns looking after Uncle Fo. Sleeping in shifts so that one of them was always awake and at Frodo's side at all times. Just in case. In case.... Well, Elanor didn't want to think about that. He would get better. He would. He had to. He always got better, didn't he?

"Time for tired little lasses to get some sleep, sweetheart." Rose caressed her daughter's curls and steered her towards the bedroom Elanor shared with her two eldest sisters. Elanor yawned without realizing it. "I'll wake you up first thing in the morning," Rose continued.

"But what if something happens during the night?" Elanor asked as she changed into her nightgown. She really wanted to stay in the little chair next to Uncle Fo, but had agreed to follow her parents' instructions. "You will come get me if something happens, won't you?"

"I promise, sweet pea," Rose said, taking her daughter's discarded clothes and gently hanging them across the back of a chair. "Now go to sleep. You have to be fresh in the morning. It's your turn to cook breakfast, and I don't want my eggs burned like last time."

"I didn't burn them on purpose," Elanor muttered as she sank into the large, lonesome bed.

"I know," Rose said, and kissed her daughter on the forehead. "Uncle Frodo can be very naughty sometimes. Very distracting. Now go to sleep. I'll wake you if anything changes. And Sam-Dad is in our bedroom if you need him too."

~~~~~~

For convenience Sam and Rose declared the elder boys' room to be the sick room, since it was equidistant between the bathing room and the kitchen. It also had a nice view into the garden, which Sam insisted was an intrinsic part of helping Uncle Fo to recover. "Fresh air and fresh flowers enhance healing powers," Sam-Dad was fond of saying. But Elanor thought it would take a lot more than flowers and breezes to make Uncle Fo better this time.

Frodo was having trouble keeping his food down. Everything he ate or drank came back up, no matter what Rose or Sam offered. Elanor couldn't count how many nightshirts and towels she had washed over the last three days. A lot. Far too many.

Even Elanor could see that Uncle Frodo was in a lot of pain. She had seen his anniversary illnesses and knew about the shoulder wound and his sometimes strange behavior. But this pain seemed to be all over; not just the shoulder. Sam-Dad thought it was a combination of the poisons from the Morgul-blade and the spider bite, and maybe something else they didn't know about. In any case, Rose and Sam fretted as Frodo's fever increased daily. Today he kept falling in and out of consciousness; forever talking about walking and carrying things. When he did come to his senses, he would ask to hold the pendant Queen Arwen gave him. But Elanor couldn't see that it made much of a difference.

Elanor was given the job of watching Frodo while Sam tended to some business and did another load of soiled bed clothes. Rose was sleeping the rest of the exhausted, having stayed up with Frodo for the past two nights. Frodo couldn't say much, as he was struggling to stay awake and aware. So Elanor decided to sing and read to him. To keep him company in the big, rather empty-feeling smial. And to keep his mind focused on something other than the pain and darkness. But the day was passing very slowly. He was growing weaker. Elanor wiped the perspiration from his fevered brow as the afternoon drifted towards sunset. She should be out playing with the rest of her friends. But her Uncle Frodo needed her. And she would do anything to help him get well again.

The sun was about an hour away from setting when Sam came into the room. Elanor climbed down out of the bed to let her father get closer.

Sam watched as Frodo shifted a little in his delirium. Elanor could hear her uncle muttering again.

"How long has he been talking like this, Elly?" Sam gently asked.

"Off and on the whole afternoon," she replied.

Frodo's voice could be heard clearly now as his hands trembled and his feet twitched. "No. Too heavy. Too hot. Can't... No, Sam. Can't let it get to you, Sam. So hot. So heavy. Fire. It burns. It burns us."

"I know, love," Sam crooned soothingly as he propped Frodo up against his chest and began to unbutton his soaked nightshirt. "We'll get you a nice, cool bath. That will put out the fire. And I won't touch it. I promise."

Frodo's head lolled against Sam's sun-browned neck. "So hot... It's choking me." The faint whisper could barely be heard as Frodo mumbled into the rough homespun cloth of Sam's work shirt.

"Elly?" Sam's voice rose a fraction as he addressed his daughter. "Get some clean bed clothes and tidy up the room while I give Uncle Frodo a bath."

"Yes, Da," she replied, averting her eyes as her father lifted the pale naked form into his strong arms.

"Oh, and bring me one of Uncle Frodo's clean nightshirts after that bed's been made." Sam left the room, carrying Frodo's limp form down the hallway and into the bathing room.

Elanor could hear Frodo's voice from the bathing room. She concentrated on making up the bed, but was distracted by what she could hear. She could just make out hearing him ask Sam something.

"No, no," Sam's gentle voice rose above the faint sounds of water splashing. "You didn't do anything rash at all. But we need to get some of Rose's good cooking in ta you before you can get stronger."

"Oh, Sam." Elanor could hear Frodo's soft voice echoing faintly down the tiles in the hallway. "I do not think I can manage it. I'm sorry. But it never stays down long."

"It'll never stay down if it don't get past your lips." That was Mother's voice. Evidently she had heard the splashing and decided to come help with the bathing. "I don't care if it comes back up. Sheets and clothes can always be washed. But you have to at least try."

Elanor busied herself with straightening up the room after she delivered the fresh nightshirt to her mother. Clean sheets smelled so much better than the old ones. It was early evening and Elanor decided to open the windows to let the stale smells of sickness out to be replaced with the fresh, warm summer scents of flowers and new-mown hay. The last rays of the sun were peeking out a gaudy gold from behind red, pink and purple clouds.

Elanor could see Sam-Dad bending over the bed as she returned from taking the soiled bed clothes to her mother for washing. Her father was tucking the covers around Frodo's legs. Frodo was propped up, reclining against a pile of pillows. One of the old green towels lay across the top pillow, protecting it from his still-damp greying curls.

Frodo sighed and opened his eyes. Elanor could still see the fever within the weary blue orbs, but it had temporarily retreated thanks to the cool bath. Her uncle smiled faintly. "Thank you, Sam," he whispered.

Sam smiled back and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Glad you're feeling better. I'm going to clean up and fix us a bit of supper. Elly can stay and keep you company, if you like."

Frodo turned and smiled at Elanor. "Hello, Elly-elle. That would be nice."

Sam placed the back of his work-worn hand on Frodo's forehead. He smiled and winked at Frodo. "Would you like some light?" Sam asked.

"Not yet, Sam," Frodo said. "The sunset is lovely as is."

"See you in a little bit then," Sam said as he exited the darkening room and pulled the door closed.

"Would you like me to comb your hair, Uncle Fo?" Elanor asked. She climbed up onto the bed beside him.

"No elaborate braids, mind you," Frodo gently teased.

"No. Your hair's not quite long enough, though it's way too long compared to other gent's hairstyles," Elanor teased back as she gently untangled the damp locks. "Why do you keep your hair so long anyway, Uncle Fo?"

He leaned forward slightly and moved his head to one side, exposing the back of his neck.

"Oh," Elanor quietly mouthed; her hands suddenly stilled from their task. She had forgotten about the scar. The spider scar on the back of his neck. Even after all these years it was still hideous to look at. "Never mind. I'm sorry. I forgot."

Her hands resumed their work as he eased himself back against the pillows. "That's all right, Elly," Frodo simply said, closing his eyes.

Elanor scooted off the bed and put away the hairbrush and towel.

"Elanor, would you please hand me my pendant?" Frodo quietly asked.

She found it carefully coiled up on top of the chest-of-drawers. The silvery mithril chain slid through her slender fingers like liquid moonlight. Hanging from the chain was an exquisite pale pinkish-white jewel in a whiplash mithril setting. She handed the pendant to her uncle. He gazed at it for a moment before reverently kissing it with his lips, then placed it about his neck; the jewel settling on his thin chest as if it had always belonged there. He sighed slightly and Elanor could see some of the tension and pain slide from his shoulders.

"Uncle Fo?" she said, "what makes that necklace special? It is magic?"

"Well, maybe it has some magic, Elly-elle," Frodo said. "It is an Elvish pendant given to me by Queen Arwen, so it might have some of her magic in it."

"Does it make you feel better?"

"Not directly, sweetheart," Frodo said, "but it helps me remember what is true and what is important. And when you concentrate on what is true and important, your cares and pains somehow seem less."

He removed the necklace and handed it to Elanor. She studied it intently. The room was getting too dark, so Elanor went over and threw back the curtains to let in the last rays of the sun. A stray sunbeam pierced the deep maroon and amber clouds, striking the center of the pendant in her hands. A million flashes of every color of the rainbow danced across the darkening shadows. Elanor gasped in surprise. "It's ... it's alive!"

Frodo smiled as she came back to bedside and reverently handed it back to him. He held it in his hands, letting the slippery mithril chain dribble through the opening left by his missing finger, gazing into the depths of the gem.

"What do you see when you look at it, Uncle Fo?"

"It is not so much what I see, as what I am reminded of," he said as he again slipped the necklace over his head. "Queen Arwen's Elvish name is Undomiel, which means...?"

"Evenstar." Elanor was quick with the response. She was beginning to study Elvish with Uncle Frodo before this current illness struck. She loved the sound of it. So musical. So magical. So mysterious. She also loved the fact that her Uncle Frodo was the only person in the Shire who could read and speak it. That made him extra special. And she so loved book-learning, despite what the rest of her friends thought about it. And she loved her Uncle Fo, too. Despite what her friends and their parents thought of him and the sometimes spiteful things they said about him. Sometimes she even secretly wished she was Frodo's daughter, and not Samwise Gamgee's eldest. But most of the time she was content with who she was.

"Quite right, Elanor. Evenstar. And when I was in my most desperate moments during the Quest, it was the memory of the stars shinning above Bag End which stuck with me the longest. You see, my sweetest flower, the stars were placed into the sky by Elbereth the Blessed. They are her permanent beacon of light, beauty and hope to all of Arda. Nothing evil can ever touch the stars. There will always be beauty and truth all around you, even in your darkest hour, if you can but remember the stars."

Frodo struggled to remove the covers. "Help me over to the chair by the window, please."

Elanor steadied her uncle as he settled into an overstuffed armchair set by the West-facing window. He left his nightshirt open at the collar so he could have easy access to the jewel. Elanor brought over a colorful quilt depicting a summer garden, and wrapped it about his legs. The tiny embroidered canary-yellow butterflies so carefully stitched by Aunt Marigold looked like twins to the real ones dancing in the twilight breeze. Dusk had fallen, and a lone star shone above the horizon in the quickly- gathering darkness. Elanor could hear the cheerful sounds of gloaming: crickets chirping their love song; a bird trilling one final chorus from its nighttime perch; parents calling their errant children in for late supper.

"Would you like me to light a candle, Uncle Fo?"

"No thank you." It was a whisper. "But I think I could take a cup of tea. Would you be a dear and bring me some, please?"

Elanor smiled. "Of course," she replied. Dear old Uncle Fo was always so polite. Except when he wasn't himself, and those times were becoming fewer and fewer. Elanor's heart sang for joy as she hurried down the darkened hallway. Uncle Fo was getting better! She only stopped for a second to light a wall sconce before bursting into the kitchen.

"Mom!" But it wasn't Rose in the kitchen. It was Sam handling the cooking over the stove. "Oh! Dad! Guess what?" Elanor raced over to the stove and hugged Sam.

"Easy, lass. Easy," Sam chuckled. "What?"

"Uncle Fo's better!" she blurted out excitedly. "He's sitting up in the chair by the window. And he's asked for tea."

Rose walked in from the washing room, toweling dry her wet arms. Even though her sleeves were rolled up past her elbows, they were still sopping wet from doing laundry. "Wonderful news, Elly. Go ahead and get the tea service set up and your father can add some crumpets to the tray. Maybe we can convince some food to stay down this time, if Uncle Frodo is feeling better."

The combined Baggins-Gamgee-Cotton household had several tea services. Elanor chose the most elegant silver tea service from the china cabinet. It had belonged to the Baggins family ever since time began, and Elanor thought it was the loveliest work of art in the whole smial. She carefully selected a matching fine china tea cup and saucer to go on the tray, and brought over the honey and cream. Sam had already filled the tea pot with boiling water and Frodo's favorite black tea and cinnamon mixture. Rose set a small plate with a selection of fresh-baked golden-brown crumpets, a creamy yellow pat of butter, and strawberry and blackberry jams on the tray. Elanor added a silver teaspoon and butter knife, then picked up the heavy tray.

"Try to not overwhelm him, Elly-elle," Sam good-naturedly teased as he continued to stir the chunks of meat sizzling in the hot pan.

Elanor wanted to add a fresh flower in a crystal vase to the tray, but it was already overburdened with goodies as it was. She crept down the dimly lighted hallway, silent as only a hobbit can be. She was careful to not jiggle the tea service and give away her presence. As she reached the open bedroom door, she froze in wonder at the sight.

He sat in the chair as before, bathed in faint starlight filtering into the dark room. The quilt was still wrapped about his legs. He was leaning back into the comfort of the padded chair, facing slightly towards the open window. A gentle night breeze made the untied curtains sway in and out of shadows. His eyes were closed and his breathing easy. He seemed to be asleep, the pinkish-white gem at his chest gleaming quietly as it feasted on the new starlight. What made Elanor stop was Frodo himself. He was... he was ...

She was suddenly afraid. She set the tea service down on the floor, turned, and fled back to the safety and familiarity of the kitchen.

"Mom! Dad!"

Sam quickly put down the plate of steaming meat and gathered his distraught daughter into his strong arms. "What is it Elanor?"

"It's Uncle Fo!"

Rose started to run from the kitchen towards the bedroom, but Elanor stopped her. "Mom! Don't wake him."

"Is he all right, Elanor?" Rose sternly asked.

"He's ... he's asleep, I think," Elanor said, "but... he's ... I don't want to go in there alone."

"What's the matter, Elanor?" Sam asked. "What is Mister Frodo doing?"

"I'm going in there!" Rose flatly stated.

Sam restrained her with a gentle touch. "Let's hear what Elly says first, Rose-love. Now Elanor, why are you afraid to go into the room?"

Elanor looked at the floor in shame, her delicately pointed ears turning red. "You're not going to believe me," she whispered.

"Try me," Rose said, crossing her arms.

"Uncle Fo's ... well...." Elanor shuffled her feet. "He's glowing."

Rose's right eyebrow raised as she looked at Sam. Sam sighed, realizing he had been holding his breath against bad news. He briefly nodded towards Rose prior to kneeling before his frightened daughter. "I believe you, Elly. I truly do." He raised her chin with his hand. "I've seen it before too."

"What are you talking about, Sam?" Rose frowned.

"Daddy?" Elanor asked, "is Uncle Fo a ghost now?" Her voice quivered with tears.

"No, sweetheart," Sam gently said. "Uncle Frodo's quite real and alive, I assure you. I've seen him this way twice now. Calm yourself and come with me and I'll explain." He stood and turned to Rose. "We'll be back in a minute or two. Would you mind holding dinner for a bit?"

Sam took Elanor by the hand and led her back down the hallway as Rose turned to putting their dinner back into the oven to warm. They stopped in the glow of the sole wall candle beside Elanor's bedroom.

"Now, don't mention the glowing to Uncle Frodo," Sam said. "He doesn't know he does it, and I really don't want him or anyone else to know about it. I'll talk to your mother later on."

"But what is it, Daddy?" Elanor whispered as Sam retrieved the candle.

"Well, sweetheart, I can't say for certain exactly what it is, but I can tell you what I think it is." Sam slowed down as they neared the bend in the hallway leading to the sickroom. "I first noticed it when we were in Rivendale after Uncle Frodo's first wounding. I had seen this sort of glow around the Elves when they sometimes reveal their true nature. Like when Lord Glorfindel went after the Black Riders. After Lord Elrond did surgery on Mister Frodo, well... Frodo sort of took on that look too. But only in certain lights. Usually only by starlight."

"That's it!" Elanor eagerly interrupted. "I had the curtains thrown back and saw Uncle Fo sitting in his chair by the window. The Evenstar is out tonight."

"Was he wearing his jewel from Queen Arwen?" Sam asked.

"Yes!" Elanor said. "But why does he glow?"

Sam paused for a moment before replying. "I'm going to tell you something very hard for me to talk about, Elly. But I think you are old enough to understand some of this." He stood in silence for a moment before continuing. "I've thought about this for a long time, Elly, and never told no one. Not even your mother. But you've seen it, so now I think I best be telling you. I believe we are catching a glimpse of Mister Frodo's soul," Sam whispered. "You see, I believe most people hold their mortality too close to their hearts so that their true nature cannot be seen. It's a rare individual who can see another person's aura – that's the glow from their soul. And Mister Frodo ... ah, Frodo..."

Elanor could see her father's expression soften in the candlelight. "Mister Frodo's probably the only non-Elf I've ever known whose soul is so pure and so exposed that it is actually visible to others who have the gift of sight. But remember, he himself is not aware of it."

Sam turned and made Elanor look him in the eye. "And we'll never tell him we saw it. Will we, Elanor? It's very important you keep this to yourself. That you don't tell any of your brothers or sisters or cousins or friends. That you never speak of it to anyone. Do you understand, Elanor?"

"Not really, Daddy," Elanor solemnly whispered.

"Truthfully spoken, lass," Sam smiled. "Well, I don't fully understand it either. But we will never, ever, mention it to Uncle Frodo," Sam continued. "He doesn't know about it. And should he ever find out, he might feel even more strange and out-of-place than he does now. And we're trying desperately to make him feel and understand our love. Our need for him. Our need to keep him here with us. We're trying very hard to make things normal for him. Do you understand that, Elanor?"

She nodded. That was something she could understand.

"Good." Sam kissed his all-too-grownup daughter on the top of her golden curls. "Now, get the tea service and we'll go in."

Sam extinguished the candle as he and Elanor rounded the last bend in the hallway which separated them from the sickroom. Elanor's eyes were as wide as the platter she was carrying – trying to see if what she thought she saw was true. There sat Frodo in his chair. He was awake now and gazing out the window at the star-filled sky. Sam could see a trace of tears staining his pale face. In deed, it seemed to Sam's eyes that Frodo glowed faintly with an inner beauty more akin to the Eldar than to the Edain.

Sam lightly rapped at the door. "I believe you ordered tea, sir?"

Frodo blinked back into himself, and the glow seemed to fade back into normal starlight. "Did you bring a candle, Sam?"

"I didn't think we needed one, but I'll go get one now," Sam nonchalantly said and exited.

Elanor smiled slightly and set the tea service on the table beside the window, then sat down beside her uncle. She was glad it was dark. It would hide her nervousness. "If you feel like it, would you teach me some more Elvish tomorrow, Uncle Fo?" she asked, trying to get her mind off the strangeness she had witnessed. Trying to sound normal. But she didn't think she knew what normal was anymore.