Though his heart ached for the loss of Meruwen, his beautiful companion, Fenrohir slowly became accustomed to traveling alone. The rolling hills of the Shire country were beautiful, especially in late spring when the flowers were coming to full bloom. Though he traveled alone and slept under the stars night after night, Fenrohir did not miss too keenly the companionship of which the trip through the Downs had earlier deprived him.
Or so he believed, until early one evening as he lay upon his mat, looking up at the darkening sky, he heard faintly the sound of soft voices. Having kept mostly to the country, seldom even passing within sight of towns or villages, Fenrohir had not heard other human voices for weeks. The sound evoked within him a sudden sense of longing, and he sat up.
Away to his left through the trees, he saw movement. It seemed as though a great body of people was passing along the road, which wound slowly towards him through the forest. There was the faintest glow of blue light, and for a moment Fenrohir recalled the sickly hue of the Barrow-Wight. But his fears were quickly allayed: surely these were not Wights, but elves. Their fair voices drifted sweetly through the evening air, soft and musical. Fenrohir felt a great joy fill his heart, and he longed to run to them.
Yet as the company approached on the road, they turned away suddenly into the trees on the far side of the road. Dancing and singing merrily, they followed some unseen path until they disappeared from view. Fenrohir felt a powerful curiosity grow in his mind, and suddenly he found he had risen from his mat and was creeping across the road and into the trees, following the elves.
At last he caught sight of the flickering firelight and the peaceful blue glow of the mysterious company far ahead of him. As Fenrohir approached cautiously, he found the elves had come to a large clearing, and there they lingered, taking food and drink and laughing merrily in their sweet voices.
Reluctant to make his presence known to these strangers, fair though they seemed, Fenrohir crouched just outside the clearing and watched the merry feast. He began to think of returning to his mat beneath the stars, where much-needed sleep awaited him, when suddenly he sensed a change in the company before him.
Plates and dishes were carried swiftly away and stashed elsewhere. Elves sitting in groups of three or four throughout the clearing sat drinking together and whispering in soft voices. Some clasped the hands of their fellows, while yet others embraced. If Fenrohir thought this behavior odd, what happened next startled him even more.
A tall male elf in the group nearest to Fenrohir pulled his lovely female companion to him and began to kiss her. She responded eagerly to the kiss, wrapping her long, thin arms around his neck. To Fenrohir's surprise, the others in the group did not look uncomfortable; if anything, they seemed to approve. The other male reached out and began to stroke the female's long curling tresses; the other woman caressed both of their arched backs at once.