November 28th was cold and wet. Thick monotonous grey clouds enveloped the countryside in a blanket of mists and drizzle. Autumn had changed to winter with the coming of the cold rains. The Shire Messenger tried his hardest to keep the damp out of his pack, draping the oilskin flap over the bundles and letters.

“Doctor Proudfoot? You’ve a special letter here today,” the Messenger grinned as he stepped inside the patients reception hall. He dropped his rain-soaked pack onto the welcome mat and pulled back the oilskin. “Prettiest package I’ve ever seen. All tied up fancy in ribbons and such. Nice handwriting too, but you can tell it’s from somewhere outside the Shire. Real foreign-looking it is. It’s down in the bottom, I think …”

Iris waited patiently as her little rag rug became soaked. Finally, an olive-green envelop tied with golden raffia emerged from the depths. An elaborate note shaped like a golden leaf and addressed in dark green ink was tied to the envelop. It was addressed in flowing script to the Esteemed Doctor Iris Proudfoot, Physician’s Offices, Hobbiton, The Shire, Arnor.

“Ain’t never heard of no Arnor before. Have you?” the Messenger asked as he looked at the package in his hands.

“I think it is an old term for the Shire and lands further East to the Misty Mountains,” Iris replied. “I remember hearing old tales about a King of Arnor. But I didn’t know anyone still used the term.”

The Messenger caressed the soft package one last time before relinquishing his grip. Iris thanked him, then retired to her private library. She left the package on her desk and went into the kitchen to fix herself a cup of steaming mint tea. She was terribly excited. She forced herself to take deep, calming breaths as she returned to the study and sat in the chair beside the fireplace. Her hands trembled as she unwrapped the raffia, broke the seal, and brought forth the letter. It was written in the same firm, flowing script as on the address. Iris had been awaiting this letter with both dread and anticipation.

The Esteemed Doctor Iris Proudfoot
Physician’s Offices (East Road), Hobbiton, The Shire, Arnor

My Most Esteemed Colleague,

Your letter concerning the most Blessed Ringbearer, Elf-Friend and Beloved of Master Bilbo, Promise-Keeper and Selfless Soul, Member of the Fellowship of the Ring and our most honored guest, Master Frodo Baggins, reached my hands whilst in the midst of contemplation upon his future. A most fortunate timing for all involved, as the Valor so desire.

My soul is troubled to learn of the Ringbearer’s continued distresses caused by the hardships of the Quest. One of such noble and selfless spirit should not have to suffer long after his trials have ceased. But often such is the way of mortals and even of immortals.

Those of us who are skilled in the healing arts are obliged to alleviate suffering in all its forms. We work to the best of our abilities. But as you have pointed out in your letter, each race has a unique understanding of these healing arts, according to the knowledge granted by the Valor. What little medical practice I have concerning hobbits has been solely due to taking care of the Two Blessed Ringbearers in their times of need. Master Bilbo Baggins has resided with us many years. However, his health has remained strong and I have not treated him for anything more serious than an occasional cold or the winter vapors.

It is a quite different matter concerning Master Frodo Baggins. I am certain you know the horrific details surrounding his first visit to our realm. I will not dwell on the circumstances of such an evil wounding. Suffice it to say, all my skills as a healer were put to the test in order to save the Ringbearer’s life. It also took all of the Ringbearer’s own moral determination and innate strength of his race to refuse to succumb to the evil within that wound. I am still amazed that he not only survived the wounding, but regained his strength so quickly. As Gandalf the White once told me, hobbits really are amazing creatures. However, It does not surprise me to learn that the Ringbearer suffers relapses from that accursed wounding.

Whist I was able to save Master Frodo’s life, I was unable to restore him to complete health. It is beyond even my skill with such a wound as his. The blade was both cursed and poisoned, and the poison lives on in his blood. It can never be cleansed, at least not here in Middle Earth. There may be other Elvish healers of more skill than myself who might be able to undo the damage. However, they reside in the Blessed Realm, and the Ringbearer must travel there in order to attempt such healing. We have discussed this option with him, and know he is considering it. He would be honored and revered there, should he choose to leave Middle Earth and travel with us.

I am not familiar with the Hobbit healing arts, but have on occasion practiced herb lore such as the Men of the North use. Our library contains books of herb lore and medical practices of both Elvish and Numenorian origins. As you suspect, I believe Elvish medicine is no where near the same as the herb lore and medical arts practiced by Men and Hobbits.

Quite a lot of Elvish medicine involves direct stimulation of the spirit or mind and is probably inaccessible to mortals. However, since the patient is the Ringbearer, I am willing to once again treat him and have you, Doctor Proudfoot, attend in order to learn what you can from the treatments. Hopefully, you will be able to adapt some of the Elvish treatments so that you may use them after we have left these shores.

A long time ago during the First Age, a Prince of Gondor also suffered a similar Morgul-blade wounding, yet survived. I must tell you that he managed to live another twelve years after the wounding, but was in constant pain. I am sure his life span was significantly shortened due to the poison carried on the blade. I am fearful that such might also be the case for the Ringbearer, should he refuse the journey with us across the Sundering Sea. But, again, this is not certain. These are the only two cases I know of people who have survived a Morgul-blade attack.

I urge you to bring Master Frodo Baggins with you on your trip to Rivendell so that he is present just prior to the March 10th anniversary date. Then we may treat him during his relapse. Should he choose to remain in Middle Earth, there is a chance these episodes will become less severe as time progresses. But this is not certain.

I must insert a warning about traveling to Rivendell in these times. The East Road is not patrolled as it once was, and an armed escort is required for any traveler. The Dunedain, or Rangers as you might know them, have mostly left Arnor to relocate south in Gondor, following the King. Orcs, Trolls and Wargs still survive in the Misty Mountains and occasionally trouble travelers on the road. But more recently, Easterling Men from the defeated Armies have infiltrated Mirkwood Forest and are drifting Westward, harassing travelers and even attacking armed escorts. I do not know how far West these uncivilized Men have traveled, but any journey between the Shire and Rivendell must be carefully planned and heavily armed for your own safety.

I can provide your company with an armed escort from Bree to Rivendell and back. They will meet your group in Bree at the Prancing Pony Inn around February 10th, as requested in your letter. But your must arrange escort from the Shire to Bree. Be careful. There are still many who desire to see the Ringbearer dead.

With the utmost regard,
Elrond, Lord of Imlandis (Rivendell)

Iris carefully refolded the letter and slipped it back inside its envelop. Her tea was cold but her mind was ablaze. He had agreed! She was going to see the Elves! And there was a possibility that she could learn some Elvish medical treatments which might help Frodo.

Iris grabbed the letter and bounded up the hallway and into the doctor’s offices.

“Opal,” she cried, “I’m off to Bag End. I expect to be back before nightfall. If there is an emergency, send one of the Waddle children for me. Can you look after things here until I return?” She quickly put on her winter cloak.

“Sure, Miss Proudfoot,” Opal reached under the examination table and brought out Iris’s brown leather medical bag.

“Oh, I won’t be needing that, thank you,” Iris smiled. “Not this time. See you later on.” And she was out the door, heading up the familiar winding road past Bywater and on to Bag End.

Rose Gamgee met her at the front door and took her rain-soaked cloak. The two hobbitesses briefly discussed Rose’s pregnancy as they walked to the front study. Frodo was there, deeply absorbed in transcribing a long scroll written in Dwarvish runes.

“Iris!” Frodo almost knocked over an inkwell in his haste to stand. “What brings you out on such a cold, wet day? Here, sit by the fire. Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please,” she replied, sitting in the little chair next to the fireplace and warming her hands. Rose nodded briefly to Frodo, then pulled the door shut behind her on the way to the kitchen.

“Is anything wrong?” Frodo sat down on the hearth, taking her chilled hands in his and warming them.

“No. Nothing wrong,” Iris smiled. She leaned down and kissed him full on the lips. “Something is quite right, in fact.”

“Ever since I met you I have been worried about the relapses you suffer where you relive some of your nightmares,” she began. “I believe they can be managed with proper precautions. But I’ve been worried that I might not be doing enough to help you through them.”

“You have helped me survive two attacks now,” Frodo gently said, frowning. “I know you are doing the best you can to deal with this. There is really nothing else you can do.”

“Oh, but Frodo, there is,” Iris smiled. A soft knock at the door, followed by Rose’s entrance bearing a tea service interrupted her momentarily. Frodo thanked Rose and took the service as Rose departed, again closing the door to give the two some privacy.

“I’ve reached the limits of my own medical knowledge concerning this,” Iris continued, “but there are always different approaches to the same problem. I got to thinking. You were initially saved through the considerable talents of the Elves – Lord Elrond of Rivendell, to be specific.” She stirred some honey into her tea and took a deep sip. The warmth felt wonderful.

“Yes …” Frodo also stirred some honey into his tea. He looked intently at her. She was being circumspect. “Iris, did you write to him about me?”

She couldn’t help it. Iris broke into a huge smile. “Oh, Frodo. The most marvelous thing has happened. He’s agreed to teach me Elvish medical techniques and Numenorian herb lore! I might learn something which will help you next time. Isn’t that wonderful?” Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

Frodo set down his tea cup, stood up, and began to pace the room. “Well, that is wonderful for you - yes. However, I am surprised he agreed to teach anyone at this time, much less a hobbit he has never met. I did not know mortals could learn healing techniques which the Elves use. I know Lord Elrond would not be traveling here, with time being so short prior to his leaving Middle Earth.”

Frodo stopped. “Damn, I should have seen this coming. Are you thinking of going to Rivendell?”

“Yes, I am.” Iris put down her own tea and stood up. “I’m frightened to death about traveling outside the Shire, but it’s something I have to do. And I was hoping you would come with me. If we plan it right, we can arrive in Rivendell just prior to March 10th, the next time you should experience another relapse. That way we will both be in Rivendell when it happens, and I can watch and learn as Lord Elrond treats you. Lord Elrond has already agreed to this.”

Frodo crossed his arms in annoyance. “And how long have you been planning this little journey? Shouldn’t you have at least asked me about this first?”

“I’m sorry, Frodo,” Iris said, crestfallen. “I panicked last October when you told me the Elves were leaving Middle Earth next autumn. I don’t have much time to learn what I can from them before they leave forever. And I didn’t want to bring it up to you if Lord Elrond refused to tutor me. I do hope you’ll forgive my audacity at doing this behind your back.” She turned and sat down on the hearthstone, staring into the fire. “If you don’t want to go, I’ll understand.”

Frodo walked over and sat beside her. “Iris, I do not believe you have sufficiently thought about what traveling to Rivendell in winter truly means. In order to reach there by March 10th we would have to start the journey in February. Imlandis is in the mountains. The weather will be treacherous, cold and unpredictable. And you have no experience traveling.”

“Well, I am going, whether you go or not,” Iris turned to look at him. “It’s my only chance to learn from Lord Elrond before he leaves Middle Earth forever. Time is quickly running out before the knowledge of the Elves is removed. And I may only get this one chance to witness the greatest physician in Middle Earth treat you. That is… if you will agree to go.”

She grabbed his hands and pleaded. “Please, oh please say you will go with me. If you do not come to Rivendell with me, I might still be able to learn something. But with you there, my knowledge will be practical rather than theoretical.”

Frodo could see she was adamant about going. He lightly shook his head and managed a weak grin. “Once again I cannot refuse you. Since your heart is set on this, I will go with you.”

Iris broke into another brilliant smile.

“Iris, this is not a simple thing you are asking me to do,” Frodo admonished her. “There is a good chance we will never reach Rivendell. We must leave no later than February 9th. We must plan this trip carefully in order to survive.”

“I know,” she said. “Lord Elrond also said the same thing.”

Frodo continued on. “At least two ponies will be needed. I have my pony, Strider. I am sure we can borrow Bill from Sam. Yes, Bill would be the best pony for you since he has been on the journey before and knows the way. But we will need to attach ourselves to a supply wagon, mail carrier or other organized party traveling to Rivendell from Bree, if such a party can be found. But that is doubtful during that part of the winter. The snows will be heavy in the mountains surrounding Rivendell.” Frodo was lost in thought. ‘The real problem is going to be Sam.’

“How long is the journey to Rivendell?” Iris asked. “Why do we have to leave so early? I mean, surely it is within a week’s travel from the Shire, isn’t it?”

“Iris, the world is much larger than you realize,” he gently said. “The Shire is a very small part of Middle Earth. In fact, most of Middle Earth has never heard of the Shire or even know we hobbits exist.” He reached over and pulled out a map from under his desk.

“Rivendell is about 18 days by pony from Bree in good weather if we stay to the road. We must be on our guard against ruffians wandering in the Wild, sudden bad weather such as snowstorms, and against wolves, wargs and other fell beasts in the winter. It will be a perilous journey made at that time of year, but there is no helping it if we are to be there by March 10th. I would prefer to travel in a well-organized troop of Men or Elves if possible. I wonder if Lord Elrond would send some of his people to Bree to accompany us? It is not wise to be traveling the East Road in winter without escort, even though the War is over.” He put away the map and returned to his tea.

“In his letter, Lord Elrond says he will provide an armed escort from Bree,” Iris said. “They will meet us at someplace called the Prancing Pony Inn, around February 10th.”

Frodo stood, pulled Iris to her feet, and held her close. “There is one thing I want to make perfectly clear to you. Whilst I might undertake this trip by myself without escort, I will not risk your safety in such a dangerous journey. I feel safe in the Shire and even traveling to and from Bree. But if we reach Bree and the Elvish escort is not there, and we cannot arrange for our own armed escort, I shall cancel the trip and we will return to the Shire. Agreed?”

“All right, Mister Baggins,” she said as she fingered the buttons on his vest.

“And not a word of this to anyone,” Frodo said. “Especially not Sam. I have to devise a plan which will allow us to travel there without him, and without hurting his feelings.”

They sealed their pact with a kiss before the fire.

Lord Elrond Half-Elven
Master of Imlandis

My dearest friend,

To be succinct, Doctor Iris Proudfoot has convinced me to come with her to Rivendell prior to March 10th of next year. I will only agree to this plan if you guarantee to provide an armed escort from Bree to Rivendell and back, as I consider Miss Proudfoot to be more precious to me than my life. We will await the escort as you directed in your recent letter to Miss Proudfoot – staying at the Prancing Pony Inn until February 12th at the latest. If the escort does not arrive by then, we will abort this journey and return to the Shire. We will travel by pony.

In the mean time, I have a favor to ask of you. Would you please inform Bilbo of our coming? I anticipate with joy seeing my esteemed Uncle once again. But I want Bilbo to know that I am bringing someone very special for him to meet.

And I have an second request as well, if I may impose upon you. I would ask one of your most skilled artisans to construct an artifact as per the instructions and design included with this letter. Would you please involve Bilbo in this task? Perhaps he could be persuaded to personally oversee its construction? In any case, would you send the artifact to me at Bag End with all haste possible? I will be forever in your debt.

Sincerely,
Frodo Baggins
Bag End, The Shire