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"The Dreaming Hobbit"
Galadriel had washed little Frodo and watercombed his hair. She had also,
a few hours before, hurriedly informed him of the situation with the ring and
his own station in life. The hobbit had received the news in silence; he only
asked her how the tall, pale elves had found them. "Oh, by the smell," said
Galadriel.
Frodo had got up onto the Step-Ladder of Galadriel to look into the blue basin
and witness the blue future of the fellowship. He was still standing tip-toes
on it, when Galadriel, in her pale blue dress, the color of Destiny, came behind
him and lifted the surprised hobbit up to the basin's stony rim. The hobbit
turned and gazed straight into her almondine blue eyes. For a moment the two
looked at each other. But, which was the elf, and which the hobbit?
She said: "Let me tell you a story, Frodo Baggins. When there is only one person
in the world whom you care for, and that is an orc-hunter, and he is dead, then
that is a pity."
"Yes," said the hobbit. "And now I understand everything."