The sky was clear and deep, deep blue, unbroken by any cloud. He turned with closed eyes to face the bright sun, allowing its warmth to bathe his care worn face. One long, slow inhale followed by a sigh and a desire to weep for the miracle that was to be in that place at that quiet moment. To be standing on the hill over Bag End on midsummer's day, far removed from all that was dark and threatening. All accept that which lingered within him. But then, at that moment Frodo was even able to forget that as well.