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[bronwe]

It is custom for the Dúnedain to turn their faces westward before meals, to Westernesse that once was. They bid us to do the same, and it reminded me of my home beyond the mountains; hobbits taking their elevenses in comfortable holes under hills.

I hope -- never to call it a once was but an always is.

[ Silence and a sigh as he recalls a funny thought. ]

My dear Sam said something about lettuce then, and something about rain. But sometimes these things slip my mind. Like rain on a wilted lettuce I think he said, like hope.

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[bronwe]

[ Frodo falls silent then, weighed with errant thoughts. He stares at his own hands resting palm up on his lap. ]

Has fear overtaken if it occupies one's every single thought, Aragorn? [ Has one lost hope if one no longer looks to reward but to an end? ] Were you ever afraid?

[thelastking]

Yes, Frodo. [As much as he wishes he could say otherwise--] Even I once knew fear.

[bronwe]

[ He's apologetic now for turning this to him. Memories of fear aren't so pleasant. But he needs to know. ] Was it death you feared?

[thelastking]

[ He shakes his head. ] I was never the type to fear death as much as I feared the cursed blood in my veins.

[bronwe]

[ Frodo isn't sure what it is he fears, to meet the end or to be without it when he longs for it. ]

To fall without chance of redemption?

[thelastking]

[ He confirms the halfling's answer with a wan smile. ] You know me too well, Frodo.

[bronwe]

[ Only for knowing himself well. ]

If I did, I would know what to say to soothe your fears.