A strange relief stole over him, followed by disappointment. They would not discuss it, and he found some part of him preferred it immensely that way. Too many people so far seemed much too eager to talk about the Ring, staring at it even if they got only a glimpse and continuing to stare at where it had been or gone to, he imagined, with longing. They would think of it and on it too much. At the Council, he had put the Ring down on the pedestal before with no small amount of reluctance, and even then, his eyes dared not leave it for long, other than to watch the others. It was better for all that it was talked little of.

And yet...the White Lady seemed so very wise and so very old, and so very kind. If anyone knew what to do with the Ring, now that poor Gandalf was gone, it must be her. Frodo hesitated. She might be the one person who would know what course to take. He ought to say something.

Instead, he nodded. "Thank you. Have you seen any of the others? Is Aragorn here? Or my kin or Sam?"