Frodo was, in a word or two, completely oblivious to all of this, and he maintained a rather contented smile as he began to stroll toward the edge of the roof. There was a low fence in place, but nothing he couldn't see over even at his height. He didn't even have to stand on his toes.
There were still a few lights on in the park, illuminating the larger landmarks, such as the Sleeping Beauty's Castle and the Tower of Terror. Frodo sipped his drink. The smile faded.
Since his last dream, he had felt what could be almost accurately described as listless. He found himself inexplicably longing for a vague alternate universe filled with things he felt far were beyond the confines of his own, allegedly touched mind. Certainly that was what had led him to Disneyland today in the first place. But even Space Mountain and the Matterhorn couldn't set things right in his head.
What he longed for, apparently, was Lothlorien, but he hadn't a clue what that meant. It was just a word that lingered after waking. He wasn't even positive that it was a place.