The Breathing Sea by StarSpray

Epilogue

When they left Lórien Gandalf did not take the hobbits back to Tol Eressëa, but to the house in the mountains that Celebrían had made in memory of Imladris; Amon Imrath it was called, and was nestled in a high-up valley scooped out of the mountainside, where streams flowed merrily down from the much higher peaks of the Pelóri, and sheep grazed happily on the green slopes, and goats frolicked on the sheer cliffs higher up.

A feast was held in celebration of their arrival, and of Frodo ’s recovery. Elrond was greatly relieved to see the brightening of Frodo’s spirit, and the easing of its wounds and those of his body. The long sojourn in Lórien had done him a great deal of good; Elrond suspected that Frodo himself was unaware of just how deep-seated his wounds had gone. They were not fully healed, and perhaps they never would be—but the difference surely must feel to Frodo as if they were.

At this feast, Frodo and Bilbo were seated at the high table with Elrond and Celebrían, and with Gandalf and other guests of high honor, including Celebrimbor, who had greeted Frodo as a friend upon their entry into the hall

During the meal Bilbo pestered Gandalf, seated beside him, with many questions about Amon Imrath and its construction, until at last during the dessert course Gandalf lost his patience. “I was not here for its construction, Master Baggins!” Gandalf finally cried. “Have mercy on an old tired wizard and go to Lady Celebrían instead!”

“You,” Bilbo said, pointing at Gandalf with his fork, still with a strawberry pierced upon it, “are not at all tired now.”

“But I am old,” said Gandalf, beard twitching only a little. “And anyway, Lady Celebrían will be much happier than I to endure your questions. Worse than young Peregrin, you are! I never should have brought you to Valinor.” Bilbo laughed, but he did cease his questions.

Elrond smiled at Gandalf, who took a large sip of wine. “Bilbo is right,” he said. “You are much lighter now than you were.”

“I am!” Gandalf replied, and laughed. “Too light, almost—as though a stiff breeze might pick me up and send me tumbling through the skies if I’m not careful. And perhaps one of these days I shall let it!” He glanced down the table, and Elrond followed his gaze. Frodo was laughing freely, conversing with Erestor and with Celebrimbor. His spirit shone like the light of Eärendil in Galadriel’s phial, to those who could see it. “The last of my burdens has been eased,” Gandalf said, more quietly, “and now we may all find our rest!”