Estë hears the song as she sleeps on her isle of Lórellin, and recognises its source at once: the halfling, Frodo, whom it had been her honour to care for in the days immediately after the downfall of Sauron. He is here then, in the Blessed Realm, and her heart rejoices, though she had little guessed when they were sent into her keeping how dear he and his companion would become to her.
His companion. Samwise. Her ears strain for his song, but she does not find it, and even in sleep she frowns. Surely it cannot be that they are separated, these two, for their songs are like the strings of a harp: pleasing enough when struck alone, but creating a melody of ineffable beauty when sounded together.
But so it proves, and his solitary song, tinged now with sorrow, grieves her gentle heart. This is a hurt that she cannot heal, even if Frodo were permitted to return to her garden in Lórien in his earthly form. Only the presence of the one for whom Frodo longs can heal it. But Estë speaks to her husband, the Master of Dreams, and begs him to do what he can to ease the halfling's loneliness.
Many dreams does Irmo send Frodo over the years, comforting dreams of Samwise, woven from the threads of memory, from the unspoken desires of Frodo's heart, and from a soft-spoken promise that lingers, a spark unquenchable, inside him. Though they cannot wholly assuage, they bring solace.
Until one day the grey-clad Valar hears another song, and this one, too, Estë recognises: it is Samwise's song and it meets with Frodo's to soar skyward like courting eagles in a spiralling duet that touches every heart in Aman with joy, for the Ring-bearers are reunited at last.