Title: Reflections
Author: ripnik
completed: yes
Characters: Frodo/Sam
Rating: PG
Slash: no
Warnings: None, though it could depress the hell out of you, I
suppose.
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns these characters. I don't and make no
money. The story is my own fault. All mistakes are mine.
Feedback: Yes, please. Thank you very much for any and all
suggestions.
Reflections
He looked into the water and saw reflections. They didn't alarm
him. Maybe they should have but it didn't seem to matter anymore.
Instead of seeing the reflection of the graceful willow swaying
across the pond in the warm summer breeze, he saw a broken, blackened
stump. Instead of the reflection of a clear cerulean sky, there were
roiling black and red volcanic clouds. Instead of the bright yellow
sun, he saw a great Eye, lidless, wreathed in flame. And, of course,
the Ring was always there.
Closing his eyes before he saw his own reflection, Frodo rubbed his
face with his hand and turned away from the water. He had become
quite familiar with the wretched, shrunken, empty creature reflected
in his mirror lately. He's stopped looking into mirrors on
purpose when the images from his nightmares began to invade his
waking hours. There was a time when he had still cared about such
things and had asked Sam if his physical appearance had changed much.
Sam had told him he looked much the same as always, if a bit more
frail. But it didn't really matter anymore.
He looked over to the happy family setting up a picnic lunch by the
side of the small pond. Rosie was unpacking the large basket and Sam
was smiling and chasing after Elanor. At Sam's insistence, Frodo
had seated himself on a small wooden bench by the pond in the cool
shade of a large tree. Elanor was toddling around as fast as she
could, shrieking with laughter as her father chased her, making
growling noises. She headed towards Frodo, giggling and wobbling, a
bit too close to the water. As he snatched her up, she cooed "Fwodo!"
and he held her tightly. She laughed, hugged and kissed him on the
cheek. He remembered the proper responses; he could still go through
the motions. Smiling, he hugged her back. Frodo didn't look into the
water, not wanting to see what might be there. She squirmed and he
put her down. The smile had never reached his eyes, but Elanor
didn't seem to notice as she went back to her father. Sam scooped her
up into his arms and tossed her into the air as she shrieked with joy.
Frodo felt nothing as he watched the lovely scene. It was odd. He
remembered that once he would have felt something wonderful. But now
there was nothing. No joy. No love. He could still feel physical
pain, he reminded himself. He felt that every waking moment. He
looked over at Rosie and felt a stab of irrational anger. He could
still feel that, too. *How dare she tell Sam he had "wasted"
a year-he had nearly died saving all of Middle Earth...* Frodo
restrained the anger quickly. He could still do that for now, too.
But he didn't know for how much longer. It flared up faster and was
more difficult to control each time.
Sam set Elanor down and watched her carefully as she toddled towards
her mother. When she was safe, Sam came over to stand beside the
bench. Frodo looked up and squinted into the brightness that was
Sam. He shone with health and immeasurable happiness. Love seemed
to radiate from him like a physical force. Frodo could feel it flow
around himself, sliding off, never touching him, never reaching him.
Sam sensed this and reached out to stroke Frodo's cheek, looking
sad and concerned. Frodo closed his eyes and leaned into the caress,
actually able to remember how the touch used to make him feel. The
wonder, the awe, the shivery feeling that would suffuse his entire
body and make him weak in the knees. But he felt nothing now.
Somewhere, deep inside, something grieved, wailing in anguish at the
enormity of that loss of feeling. Again, Frodo was surprised that he
could actually feel something echoing around within the empty,
shrunken place that was himself. But it never reached the surface.
Did it really matter?
"Are you feeling all right, Frodo?" Sam's voice was full
of love and concern. Frodo opened his eyes and pasted a smile onto
his face. "I'm fine, Sam. Really. Go back to them. I'll come over
when lunch is ready." Sam gazed dubiously into his face, then bent
over to kiss him tenderly on the forehead. Resting his cheek on top
of Frodo's head for a moment, Sam whispered to him, "I love you, you
know." Frodo's smile collapsed as he said simply, "I do know. Thank
you." Sam straightened up, looking troubled, but nodded and walked
back to his family.
Frodo wanted to feel happiness for him. Wanted to be a part of Sam's
life, but memories were difficult to access now. It was getting
worse. Soon there would be a time when it would be
impossible to remember. Gandalf had said this would happen.
The lack at first was a blessing on the Field of Cormallen. But
later, when the numbness didn't abate, and when he still cared,
Frodo had gone to Gandalf to find out why this was happening to him.
Gandalf explained how unrelieved, constant exposure to fear, pain and
trauma could burn away the capacity to feel or care. It was something
that was common in wartime and affected all races. With proper care,
some would get better, some would not. As Gandalf spoke to him,
Frodo had thought back to Minas Tirith and the Houses of Healing
where he had volunteered to help with the wounded after his physical
hurts had healed. Over and over, he had heard hardened veterans of
Gondor screaming that it didn't matter as their shattered limbs
were removed to save their lives. He would see warriors of Rohan
staring into the far distance with a strange look as they sat or lay
unmoving in their beds, seemingly unhurt. It was explained to him
that these brave warriors and soldiers had looked upon so much horror
that their minds and souls were hollowed out and drained. The look on
the faces of these men was familiar to Frodo, but he couldn't remember
where else he'd seen it until he had looked into Merry and Pippin's
eyes that evening, and then his own mirror.
Gandalf had then explained to him again the effects of the One Ring.
Frodo had known this before but had not fully understood. That there
would never be true healing and that it would only get worse, as long
as he stayed in Middle Earth. He had raged at Gandalf then and wept
for what seemed like hours. Feeling cheated and infuriated at the
unfairness of this turn of events, he'd horrified himself by
cursing Gandalf and Bilbo and had even asked why Sam wasn't affected
similarly. He'd carried the Ring, as well, hadn't he? Why was he
whole, while Frodo was scarred and empty? It was so unfair! Gandalf
had tried to explain that Sam had not had to carry it as far and that
he had come from a loving family and wasn't an abandoned, neglected
orphan, but Frodo had ceased to listen at that point. Gandalf had
given up explaining and simply held him, rocked him like a baby as
he'd cried for the loss of what he had had and could never have
again.
Frodo never told Sam about his visit with Gandalf. Sam had so
desperately wanted things to be the same again. Frodo could not bring
himself to try to explain to his dear friend and love how he was
being progressively consumed from within by a desire for something
that no longer existed and never would. That, due to the trauma of
the war, he had lost his ability to feel or care about anything that
was important in his life. How could one explain something like
that?
The anger returned with an intensity that frightened him. He was
mildly surprised at his fear-he had thought himself beyond fear.
No, the fear was for Sam and his beautiful family. Frodo feared what
he was becoming and did not want to inflict that on them. He had
wanted so much that he could now never have. But that didn't matter
anymore. Sam could have what he could not. Before it was too late and
he had nothing left to offer. Frodo decided that this truly did
matter. It mattered so very much.
The realization of his decision shocked him. Frodo blinked and felt
a tear track down his cheek as he looked up at Sam, Rosie and Elanor
waving to him to join them. He smiled a genuine smile, stood up and
looked into the water. For the first time in many months, saw himself
reflected truly as he heard the call of the Sea.
Author: ripnik
completed: yes
Characters: Frodo/Sam
Rating: PG
Slash: no
Warnings: None, though it could depress the hell out of you, I
suppose.
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns these characters. I don't and make no
money. The story is my own fault. All mistakes are mine.
Feedback: Yes, please. Thank you very much for any and all
suggestions.
Reflections
He looked into the water and saw reflections. They didn't alarm
him. Maybe they should have but it didn't seem to matter anymore.
Instead of seeing the reflection of the graceful willow swaying
across the pond in the warm summer breeze, he saw a broken, blackened
stump. Instead of the reflection of a clear cerulean sky, there were
roiling black and red volcanic clouds. Instead of the bright yellow
sun, he saw a great Eye, lidless, wreathed in flame. And, of course,
the Ring was always there.
Closing his eyes before he saw his own reflection, Frodo rubbed his
face with his hand and turned away from the water. He had become
quite familiar with the wretched, shrunken, empty creature reflected
in his mirror lately. He's stopped looking into mirrors on
purpose when the images from his nightmares began to invade his
waking hours. There was a time when he had still cared about such
things and had asked Sam if his physical appearance had changed much.
Sam had told him he looked much the same as always, if a bit more
frail. But it didn't really matter anymore.
He looked over to the happy family setting up a picnic lunch by the
side of the small pond. Rosie was unpacking the large basket and Sam
was smiling and chasing after Elanor. At Sam's insistence, Frodo
had seated himself on a small wooden bench by the pond in the cool
shade of a large tree. Elanor was toddling around as fast as she
could, shrieking with laughter as her father chased her, making
growling noises. She headed towards Frodo, giggling and wobbling, a
bit too close to the water. As he snatched her up, she cooed "Fwodo!"
and he held her tightly. She laughed, hugged and kissed him on the
cheek. He remembered the proper responses; he could still go through
the motions. Smiling, he hugged her back. Frodo didn't look into the
water, not wanting to see what might be there. She squirmed and he
put her down. The smile had never reached his eyes, but Elanor
didn't seem to notice as she went back to her father. Sam scooped her
up into his arms and tossed her into the air as she shrieked with joy.
Frodo felt nothing as he watched the lovely scene. It was odd. He
remembered that once he would have felt something wonderful. But now
there was nothing. No joy. No love. He could still feel physical
pain, he reminded himself. He felt that every waking moment. He
looked over at Rosie and felt a stab of irrational anger. He could
still feel that, too. *How dare she tell Sam he had "wasted"
a year-he had nearly died saving all of Middle Earth...* Frodo
restrained the anger quickly. He could still do that for now, too.
But he didn't know for how much longer. It flared up faster and was
more difficult to control each time.
Sam set Elanor down and watched her carefully as she toddled towards
her mother. When she was safe, Sam came over to stand beside the
bench. Frodo looked up and squinted into the brightness that was
Sam. He shone with health and immeasurable happiness. Love seemed
to radiate from him like a physical force. Frodo could feel it flow
around himself, sliding off, never touching him, never reaching him.
Sam sensed this and reached out to stroke Frodo's cheek, looking
sad and concerned. Frodo closed his eyes and leaned into the caress,
actually able to remember how the touch used to make him feel. The
wonder, the awe, the shivery feeling that would suffuse his entire
body and make him weak in the knees. But he felt nothing now.
Somewhere, deep inside, something grieved, wailing in anguish at the
enormity of that loss of feeling. Again, Frodo was surprised that he
could actually feel something echoing around within the empty,
shrunken place that was himself. But it never reached the surface.
Did it really matter?
"Are you feeling all right, Frodo?" Sam's voice was full
of love and concern. Frodo opened his eyes and pasted a smile onto
his face. "I'm fine, Sam. Really. Go back to them. I'll come over
when lunch is ready." Sam gazed dubiously into his face, then bent
over to kiss him tenderly on the forehead. Resting his cheek on top
of Frodo's head for a moment, Sam whispered to him, "I love you, you
know." Frodo's smile collapsed as he said simply, "I do know. Thank
you." Sam straightened up, looking troubled, but nodded and walked
back to his family.
Frodo wanted to feel happiness for him. Wanted to be a part of Sam's
life, but memories were difficult to access now. It was getting
worse. Soon there would be a time when it would be
impossible to remember. Gandalf had said this would happen.
The lack at first was a blessing on the Field of Cormallen. But
later, when the numbness didn't abate, and when he still cared,
Frodo had gone to Gandalf to find out why this was happening to him.
Gandalf explained how unrelieved, constant exposure to fear, pain and
trauma could burn away the capacity to feel or care. It was something
that was common in wartime and affected all races. With proper care,
some would get better, some would not. As Gandalf spoke to him,
Frodo had thought back to Minas Tirith and the Houses of Healing
where he had volunteered to help with the wounded after his physical
hurts had healed. Over and over, he had heard hardened veterans of
Gondor screaming that it didn't matter as their shattered limbs
were removed to save their lives. He would see warriors of Rohan
staring into the far distance with a strange look as they sat or lay
unmoving in their beds, seemingly unhurt. It was explained to him
that these brave warriors and soldiers had looked upon so much horror
that their minds and souls were hollowed out and drained. The look on
the faces of these men was familiar to Frodo, but he couldn't remember
where else he'd seen it until he had looked into Merry and Pippin's
eyes that evening, and then his own mirror.
Gandalf had then explained to him again the effects of the One Ring.
Frodo had known this before but had not fully understood. That there
would never be true healing and that it would only get worse, as long
as he stayed in Middle Earth. He had raged at Gandalf then and wept
for what seemed like hours. Feeling cheated and infuriated at the
unfairness of this turn of events, he'd horrified himself by
cursing Gandalf and Bilbo and had even asked why Sam wasn't affected
similarly. He'd carried the Ring, as well, hadn't he? Why was he
whole, while Frodo was scarred and empty? It was so unfair! Gandalf
had tried to explain that Sam had not had to carry it as far and that
he had come from a loving family and wasn't an abandoned, neglected
orphan, but Frodo had ceased to listen at that point. Gandalf had
given up explaining and simply held him, rocked him like a baby as
he'd cried for the loss of what he had had and could never have
again.
Frodo never told Sam about his visit with Gandalf. Sam had so
desperately wanted things to be the same again. Frodo could not bring
himself to try to explain to his dear friend and love how he was
being progressively consumed from within by a desire for something
that no longer existed and never would. That, due to the trauma of
the war, he had lost his ability to feel or care about anything that
was important in his life. How could one explain something like
that?
The anger returned with an intensity that frightened him. He was
mildly surprised at his fear-he had thought himself beyond fear.
No, the fear was for Sam and his beautiful family. Frodo feared what
he was becoming and did not want to inflict that on them. He had
wanted so much that he could now never have. But that didn't matter
anymore. Sam could have what he could not. Before it was too late and
he had nothing left to offer. Frodo decided that this truly did
matter. It mattered so very much.
The realization of his decision shocked him. Frodo blinked and felt
a tear track down his cheek as he looked up at Sam, Rosie and Elanor
waving to him to join them. He smiled a genuine smile, stood up and
looked into the water. For the first time in many months, saw himself
reflected truly as he heard the call of the Sea.