Frodo and Gandalf settled back into the rough wooden chairs pulled close to the glowing fireplace. Gandalf threw another log onto the fire. Frodo retrieved his pipe from his coat’s inside pocket and lighted up, offering Gandalf some of his Longbottom Leaf. Gandalf gladly accepted the offering, pulling his long-stemmed pipe from his staff and deftly readying the bowl. The two friends blew smoke rings for a few minutes in happy silence, content to relax in the comfort of the familiar Inn.

Frodo crossed one furry foot over the other and turned to Gandalf. “Other than Bilbo’s poetry, how are things at Lord Elrond’s house?”

Gandalf blew an elaborate series of blue smoke rings which interlocked into a chain and then quietly dissipated into a mist of gold haze. “Busy. Most of the Elves are making the last journey with Lord Elrond come September. His two sons, Elrohir and Elladan, are also making the journey. Glorfindel is staying behind for a few years with some of the Rivendell folk before sailing West. Your uncle is quite excited about your visit and is making himself quite an annoyance to the housekeepers. Ordering strange things to be brought out of storage. New dance tunes to be composed. He’s had a special broom made for you. The Elves are quite mystified at that one.”

Frodo chuckled. “Sounds to me like he has everything under control.”

“Were you aware that the Lady Galadriel is now residing in Rivendell?” Gandalf quietly asked.

Frodo shook his head. “No, I did not know, though it does not surprise me that she should choose to leave now. After all, the Elvish Rings of Power are unable to be wielded any more and their works are unraveling into this new Age. But what of Celeborn? You did not mention him.”

“Celeborn is remaining in Lothlorien. He will oversee the rousting of the orcs from the Golden Woods before the Lothlorien elves travel West,” Gandalf said. “Galadriel is staying in Rivendell until it is time to depart with Lord Elrond. She wishes to speak with you when you arrive in Rivendell.”

Frodo frowned slightly. “Exactly how did she word the request?”

“She said she wishes to speak with the Ringbearer, if that is what you mean,” Gandalf languidly replied. “And take care, Frodo. Be aware that not all of the power in the Elvish Rings is finished.”

“What does she want?” Frodo asked. A trace of suspicion betrayed his voice. He had seen the powerful Noldor Queen revealed in her might, and truly had no desire to be brought back under her indomitable gaze and silent questioning again.

“You will have to ask her yourself,” Gandalf replied, taking a long sip of the ale. “I do not know her purpose. If you have no desire to speak with her, your wishes will be granted. You have, after all, certainly earned the right of privacy. But enough about the Elves. I am much more curious about this wonderful hobbitess you’ve brought along. Frodo, my friend, tell me more about Miss Proudfoot.”

Frodo smiled and leaned back into the chair. “Gandalf, of all the possible endings for my journey, this is the least-expected. After returning home to the Shire and finding it and myself ill, I truly expected to join with the other Ringbearers and travel West, hoping to find healing in Tol Eressea. I never expected to find enough comfort and rest in the Shire to assuage this terrible emptiness inside me. But I have. I do not know how Iris understands me so well, especially when I hardly understand myself most days. But I guess fate had something else in mind when Miss Proudfoot answered my call for a new Hobbiton physician.”

Gandalf’s wizened face crinkled into a smile. “Well, my friend, congratulations. It has been a long time indeed since I have seen you relax and smile like you do when she is around. And that is good. I am very happy for you. I gather that she is your physician?”

Frodo nodded.

“Then she must be aware of your injuries,” the Wizard quietly continued.

Frodo nodded again. “She can no more cure my illness than Lord Elrond can,” he matter-of-factly replied to the unasked question. “But her treatments of the symptoms help me endure the recurring problems.” He looked up and took a long, deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Does she know about the offer for you to travel to the West?” Gandalf quietly asked.

Frodo gazed down into his half-full tankard. “Yes, she knows,” he whispered. He cleared his suddenly-tight throat. “I upset her terribly last September by telling her about possibly leaving with the Ringbearers. But we have talked about that and about a lot of other things.” He sighed and took a sip of his ale. “The talking helps more than any tonic or potion. I think I can endure the nights and the darkness with her beside me. At least, I wish to believe so.”

Gandalf did not press Frodo for more information. Even one as wise as the White Wizard, the keeper of Narya, the Elvish Ring of Fire, could not imagine what all this little hobbit had been through to destroy the One Ring. If the Ringbearer chose to tell him what was on his mind, Gandalf would gladly listen. But he would do nothing which would inadvertently bring more sorrow or pain to the one creature in Middle Earth who most deserved a little happiness. The Wizard took a long draw on his pipe and let the wisps of smoke wander where they would. “Is there anything I can do to help you, Frodo?” he finally asked.

Frodo blinked back into the present. He had let his mind wander into other, darker places. It was a habit which he had fallen into when he was not otherwise engaged. He looked across at the most powerful figure in Middle Earth sitting in a plain wooden chair in a noisy, smoke-filled pub; robed in a simple grey cloak, drinking common ale and smoking a simple clay pipe. Frodo smiled wistfully. “I do not know for which to ask. There are a lot of things I can no longer do, what with my illnesses and wounds. Things which are painful for me to bear. I thought I might go mad trying to do so alone.”

Gandalf closely studied Frodo’s face. It underwent a dramatic change. A look of quiet contentment and peace replaced the all-too-familiar sorrow.

Frodo looked sideways at Gandalf. “But I have lived through that madness. And I learned I wasn’t alone. I have Sam. And he has Rose, which means I have both of them. And now I have Iris.” He took another deep breath and exhaled slowly. “The amazing thing is that she accepts me for what I am now; not for what I used to be or what I could become. I never expected to find love and acceptance again such as what Sam and I had.” He sighed. “It will never be the same between us again.”

“What do you mean?” Gandalf quietly asked.

“He is healing more quickly than I. Fitting back into Shire society. Sam is married now and has a child on the way,” Frodo smiled. But the smile was quickly replaced with a look of concern. “There is one thing which really bothers him though. Poor Sam is fair torn in two between trying to fulfill his vow to you to look out after me, and his responsibilities for Rose and his family. It took quite a lot of convincing to have him remain at Bag End while Iris and I traveled to Rivendell. Thank goodness Rose is pregnant, or he would have left her to be here right now. I am having trouble getting him to let me go to live my own life.”

“So, there is something I can help you with after all,” Gandalf smiled. “Perhaps Master Samwise Gamgee would consider his vow fulfilled if I wrote him a letter to that effect. Explicitly releasing him from the vow now that the Quest is over.”

“Would you do that for me?” Frodo asked.

Gandalf leaned over to pat the hobbit on the knee. “Frodo, I would do just about anything you ask. We all owe you and Sam such a debt of gratitude all of Middle Earth will never be able to repay. Anything I can do to make your life easier, please name it and I shall endeavor to do it.”

“Thank you Gandalf,” Frodo replied. “That would be quite a relief to me.” The two friends sat in silence for awhile longer. Merry appeared at the doorway, three full tankards in his strong hands.

“Ah, as I expected,” Merry grinned. “You two serious old farts sitting in the dark and not a drop of brew between you. Here. Have a fresher on me!” Frodo laughed and accepted the cold, fresh ale.

“Only a cheeky hobbit whom I love dearly could call me an ‘old fart’ and get away with it,” Gandalf laughed as he accepted his ale.

Merry sat down at the table bench and wiped the fresh foam from his upper lip. “I come to understand that you are part of an escort to Rivendell,” he said, indicating Gandalf. “I am pleased to hear of it, but where are the others?”

“They are outside guarding,” the Wizard quietly replied. “They followed your movements from the West Gate to the Inn. There are four elves in the escort, along with myself. The elves prefer that their presence remain unnoticed until we leave Bree. We will rendezvous with them tomorrow on the Road, if they deem it safe.”

Frodo yawned and stood up. “I shall let Iris know of the plans. I would dearly love to stay up and talk into the wee hours of the morning, but I think I shall take a bath and then retire for the evening. See you tomorrow.” He handed his mostly full tankard to Merry and thumped him on the back. “Finish this for me, will you cousin?”

“Gladly, after I’ve escorted you to your room,” Merry smiled and also stood up. “Gandalf, would you make sure no one makes off with these before I return?” He indicated the beers. “And if one of the waiters comes over, order me some pickles and cheese too!”

Gandalf chuckled. “As you wish, Master Meriodoc. I shall guard your beers with all of my powers.”

Frodo and Merry found the communal bathing room without trouble. Frodo took a quick bath, putting his traveling clothes back on rather than taking the trouble to retrieve his nightshirt from his room before taking the bath. Merry waited patiently at the door.

“I feel like a prized hog at the Free Fair just after its scrubbing,” Frodo grumbled as they walked down the hallway. His shirt stuck to his thin, wet frame and his wet hair dripped down onto his collar.

“Nope,” Merry replied nonchalantly, “too skinny.” His hand was on his sword’s hilt, ready to defend his cousin at a moment’s notice. For all his shenanigans and pranks, Meriodoc Brandybuck was deadly serious about the safety and welfare of those under his charge. They passed a couple of tipsy Big Folk who raised their eyebrows at seeing one wet hobbit and one very stern, rather tall and definitely armed hobbit walking down the hallway, but gave the pair a wide berth. Pippin was standing guard just outside the door to Frodo’s room.

“Thanks, Mer,” Frodo said as Pippin opened the door for him. “I have Sting with me. Please don’t think you have to stand guard all night, Pip….” His voice trailed off as he and Pippin entered and froze.

The small, rustic room was illumined by a warm, yellow glow from the fireplace. Seated on the hearth, her back towards the door and her feet crossed at the ankles and to the left, sat a hobbitess. She was leaning over slightly, combing her long curly wet hair backwards as she dried it in the heat of the golden fire. She was dressed only in a white nightgown, which clung like a second skin to her wet frame. A dark brown bathrobe lay discarded at her feet. The backlight from the fire only accentuated the feminine outline of her curves. Upon hearing the door open, Iris flipped her still-wet locks across her back and twisted around.

Pippin couldn’t help but stare at the near-naked physician. The young hobbit realized a beat too late that his mouth was open and his eyes were practically popping out of his head. He blinked a couple of times and turned to stoically face his cousin. “Uh, what did you say, Frodo?”

Frodo cleared his own suddenly-tight throat and moved to block Pippin’s view. He shook his head slightly and broke into a tremendous grin as Iris quickly retrieved her bathrobe and covered herself without saying a word. “I think I was telling you to not stand guard all night.” Frodo turned to face his cousin. Pippin’s cheeks were burning a bright red, much to Frodo’s amusement.

“Oh, I won’t have to,” Pippin said, stealing sideways glances in Iris’s direction as she stood and tied the bathrobe’s belt. “but I might anyway. I only have first look …. Uh, I mean, first watch.”

Merry poked his head inside the doorway to see what was flustering his cousins. But before he could see anything Frodo quietly, but firmly, ushered the two outside and closed the door.

“First watch?” Frodo asked.

“Now, Frodo, don’t be a hardhead about this,” Merry said as he put his hand on Frodo’s shoulder. “We promised Sam that we would stand guard outside your door during the night. And I have to agree with him. Pippin has first watch and I have second.”

“Yell if you need any help in there, cousin,” Pippin said as he crossed his arms and grinned.

“You watch your mouth, Pippin,” Frodo crossed his own arms. “That’s my fiancé in there and I shall brook no nonsense from the two of you.”

“What?” Merry asked, for once clueless.

“You mean, your wife, don’t you, Mister Underhill?” Pippin couldn’t help it. He started to giggle.

“Did I miss something?” Merry was perplexed.

“Good night, Mister Underhill,” Pippin said, slapping Frodo on the back. “Sleep well. Kiss Mrs. Underhill goodnight for us,” Pippin winked and pushed Frodo back through the door before his cousin has a chance to say anything. Pippin waited until he heard the lock turn, then broke into laughter. “I’ll tell you later,” was all that Merry could get out of him.

Merry looked up and down the hallway one last time before returning to his ale and cheese with the Wizard. His cousins could be so strange sometimes.

Frodo turned to find Iris in her bathrobe, sitting on the edge of the bed in a puddle of moonlight, still combing out her slightly damp hair. He walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed next to her, carefully placing Sting under his pillow. He retrieved his comb from his backpack and finished combing out his own damp curls.

Iris did not speak. Frodo put down his comb, took the brush out of her trembling hand, and started combing her brown curls. He could not resist the moonlight gleaming on the curve of her neck and glittering on the slender silver chain she wore. Frodo moved her hair out of the way to plant a tender kiss under her ear, and another one further down, gently slipping the soft fabric of her nightgown off her shoulder. She sighed and leaned back into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her in the moonlight. He noticed she was trembling slightly. He began to gently rock back and forth to comfort her.

“Iris, what is the matter?” he whispered into her finely-tipped ear. “I hope you are not upset that Pippin happened to catch a small glimpse of you in your nightgown. I certainly appreciated the view, and I know he did too. But it really was only a glimpse, love.”

“That’s not it.” She sighed and waited awhile before answering. “Frodo, I am afraid.” Iris leaned heavily into Frodo’s cool alabaster body. He held her tightly but did not speak, kissing her neck to give her time to gather her distressing thoughts.

“I’ve never been outside the Shire before. I had never seen the Big Folk before today. They are so tall and menacing. We must appear as children to them. They must be so much stronger than us. I mean, what chance would a hobbit have against a Man, if the Man wanted to force a hobbit to do something? I feel so small and insignificant beside them.”

She turned around to face him. “I don’t mean your nice friends, Mister Butterbur and Master Gandalf. Gandalf is ever so friendly, and I had heard about the great Wizard before, of course. He smiles and laughs more than I was led to believe. But truth be known, I am afraid for you now that the journey has taken us outside the Shire. I’m certain there are ruffians here at the Inn. Oh Frodo, I feel so guilty in bringing you here. I’ve placed you in such danger.”

Frodo brushed aside a ringlet of her brown hair and kissed her neck. “You have little reason to be afraid, my love. I will not let any harm come to you, I swear. It is true. Men are much stronger than hobbits. But we can hold our own against them, if need be. But Iris, most Men are not bullies or ruffians. They are more arrogant than hobbits, but are basically the same as us. Some are stupid and slow. Some are brave and admirable. Some are cruel. But most are kind and reasonable, like hobbits.”

Frodo extinguished the sole candle on the fireplace mantle. He removed his clothing and climbed into the cool bed and motioned her to join him under the rough covers. Iris joined him, nestling her head in the hollow of his left shoulder, her hand lightly stroking his naked chest. He gathered her into his arms, feeling her body heat warm his perpetually cold scar. He let out a sigh of contentment, for the moment perfectly willing to spend the rest of his life in such a comforting, warm embrace.

“We are well protected now,” Frodo said. “Sam made Merry and Pippin promise to take watches outside our door during the night. That is a comfort. But more importantly, Gandalf is with us. And there are also four Elves guarding the Inn. We may not see them until tomorrow, but they are there, protecting us. Lord Elrond has provided us with an excellent escort. Rest easy. We are safe here.”

“Is Gandalf how you remember him?” she whispered into the darkness. “I only heard tales of his magical fireworks before I met you and heard about all his deeds in the War. I never expected to meet such a person in a public inn in Bree.”

Frodo chuckled. “Where would you have expected to meet him?”

“Oh, I imagine he stays in high and lordly places, like Rivendell or the King’s palaces in Gondor,” she said, beginning to lightly trace circles up and down his torso. “I actually never expected to meet him.”

“He stays at Bag End or the Great Smials when he visits the Shire,” Frodo said. “And he visits the Shire as often as he can. He likes hobbits. He told me and Bilbo so on one of his frequent visits. He says he feels quite at home in the Shire. Gandalf has no home; wandering where his tasks take him. Staying where he is welcome. Bringing hope and courage to all who oppose the Enemy.”

“But you haven’t answered my question,” Iris said. She let her hand wander down to lightly caress the silken point of his hip, then teased the dark curls arising from below his flat belly.

“Sorry, but you are distracting me,” he whispered and kissed the top of her head.

“Would you like me to stop?” she smiled and nuzzled the smooth skin of his chest with her lips.

“No! No. Please continue,” he said in a throaty whisper. “Ah, what was the original question?”

“Has Gandalf changed?” she replied.

Frodo ran his left hand down the curve of her spine. “Well, he has changed now that the Ring has been destroyed. He has completed the task he was sent to Middle Earth to do and seems to be ready to depart. But before then it seems to me that he can finally relax with friends and enjoy himself before leaving Middle Earth. He is not as close and, well, high and grim as he once had to be. Yet at the same time, he is more lordly and wise and even child-like; full of wonder and laughter, if you can understand what I am trying to say. He is still Gandalf my friend from old, but he is also so much more now.”

Iris closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into the protective enclosure of his arms. He followed the lead of his nose to deeply inhale the clean fragrance of her fresh-washed hair. Frodo kissed Iris lightly on the cheek and held her tightly. He could feel his desire for her rising with each shared breath and each circle of her fingers across his belly and chest. He could not suppress an involuntary moan of pleasure as her nimble fingers finally ended their teasing and descended to caress his heat.

‘I don’t even care if Pippin has his eye pressed to the keyhole,’ he thought as another soft moan escaped his partially opened lips. His body involuntarily arched slightly, giving his lover access to every square inch of her desire. But even these random thoughts flitted away like bright summer butterflies lost in the blaze of an all-consuming sun.

He quietly slipped his right hand inside her gown, running it up a smooth thigh until it found its target. The old wooden bed frame squeaked in time to their mutual caresses under the sheets. Iris sighed in the pale moonlight, her full lips slightly parted as she removed the blankets and her nightgown, surrendering completely to the magic of his touch and tongue.

The burning embers crackled and popped, releasing their heat into the chilly night air. Yet it was nothing compared to the ardor and passion generated by two lovers sharing one heart.