We arrive with worry, rushing as we can
Pale elvish voices in
The chill night air
Gandalf is there
But there’s no time for proper hobbit greetings,
We left that behind.

Elrond and Gandalf
Carry Frodo to a bed
Lay him down gently.
Elrond pulls back Frodo’s blood-stained shirt
To see the sword-mark near
Frodo’s cherished heart.
I wish I could bear his pain.
I cannot look,
Yet my eyes will not move away.
Elrond and Gandalf’s faces tell me
More than I want to know.

I see the Ring lying on his chest.
Why him?
I brush his dark, sweaty hair from his white forehead
As if I could smooth away the darkness hurting my master
Worry clutches at my heart.

They murmur strange yet beautiful words.
Still, my eyes will not leave his wound.
A cry of agony sounds from my master’s lips
And I grasp his hand tight
Lean over him
Letting my flowing tears sprinkle him
Calling him back to me.
More screams, and then
His head drops back to the pillow
Eyes closed, motionless.
No! he is leaving!
Yet Elrond smiles faintly
Seeing a deadly sword-point vanish
When it meets pure elvish air.
I would that his wound would vanish so
But I resolve in my heart
Frodo will live.