A/N:I got this idea where Frodo and his friends return to Minas Tirith to stay permanently and Frodo has gotten buried in depression, but he does such a good job of hiding it. Do you think anybody will notice? Or will Frodo be like this for the rest of his life?
Disclaimer: If you think I own the Lord of the Rings clearly you need to get an appointment with your doctor. However, I do own my ideas and style of writing.
POV: Frodo's.
Rating: T(depression, mental condition, cutting, blood, pain and LOTS of tears).
Chapter One
"Pippin! You shouldn't overexert yourself!"
"Merry! You promised I could go for a walk today!"
"That was only so you would take your tonic! Aragorn said you weren't well enough!" the other said in retaliation.
I heaved a deep sigh, one hand supporting the heavy Man-sized book of The Lifestory of The Two Friends, the other hand deep inside my pocket. Its impossible to do anything with these two in a room. I looked from where I sat across the room where a little stout hobbit stood, also with an expression of annoyance, but this one mingled with that of fondness.
I wasn't ashamed to say I didn't feel the same way. I had endured my cousins' antics for forty four years and was not amused. I made up my mind to go back to my room in the palace, I was feeling tired and my temples were aching, for some reason; however, the moment I stood up, Merry and Pippin stopped arguing and the younger of the two glanced up at me with something glimmering in his eyes. Oh, no. I mentally groaned.
"Going somewhere, Frodo?" he asked me cheerfully. Almost too cheerfully. Anyway, how can someone be that cheerful?
"I feel tired, I didn't have much of a rest." I answered honestly, while watching him for his next move.
"I don't want to bother my elderly cousin, but would you send Aragorn in so I can get my feet moving again?" Pippin blinked at me innocently with those big green eyes. I deliberately brought my eyebrows together and glared at him and his partner in crime. Pippin is not innocent. I turned away in a huff and began to march toward the door.
"Do it yourself." I replied, my hand on the knob. "Or get Merry to do it. He's not a child. He should be able to do some things."
"Aww, come on, Fro, don't be so gloomy!" Merry wailed like a babe. "Family help family, right?"
I paused, and turned around, hugging the book to my chest, thinking for a while. Every second seemed like an hour. Until -
"Fine," I gave in finally.
"Yay!" squealed the little tweenager happily. I tensed, forgetting the book in my arms and it fell on my toe, issuing a yelp from my mouth. Merry and Pippin seemed to think this was very funny.
I scowled. Immature is an understatement for those idiots, I thought. Sometimes I wonder whether they'll ever get a girl.
I heard hurrying footsteps thundering behind us and the door flung open. The King was looking positively alarmed. I'm not getting involved in this, and I slumped down next to Sam, nose buried in my book King Elessar had insisted I keep. In no time at all, I was engrossed in the world of adventure and magic with Dreymier and Scarlett. Lucky I was, because when I had straightened up, out of the tweenager's mouth was flowing a long river of curses and cussing I didn't know he was capable of emitting. Then again, all that is gold does not glitter.
"I am not sending you out until you have agreed to finish your breakfast, Peregrin Took," the King was saying heatedly.
"I am notgoing to eat anything. I feel fine."
I sneaked a peek at the platter sitting lonely at Pippin's bedside. It was a bowl of warm chicken soup, used as a conmon remedy for illnesses in the world of Men, which I knew from reading so many books. I raised my eyebrows.
"If you're fine, you would be able to eat all of that." I told my cousin. "The Pippin from two weeks ago would have leaped for joy at the sight of such a delicious meal." Pippin's jade orbs flashed with fury at the betrayal. I smirked, feeling a sort of grim satisfaction and leaned back in my chair.
"At least eat half of it," the King persisted. "Then I promise you can go for a walk in the gardens."
Pippin's face lit up. "Oh, really?" The King nodded with a smile of his own. I folded my arms over my chest, my brow furrowed and feeling extremely dubious. Merry shot me a thumbs-up sign that did not decrease my level of suspicion.
True to his word, Pippin finished up to the swirly flower design hovering near the bottom of the bowl and looked at Aragorn. "Now can I go?"
The King gestured to the door. "Yay!" Pippin shouted. "Come on, Merry, Sam!"
"What about you, Mr Frodo?"
"Me?" I asked, surprised. "Oh! Can't, I have lots of work to do. Have fun!"
When everybody had left, the King turned to me. "Are you alright, Frodo?"
"Yes." I said without looking up from where I was watching the birds outside on the marble balcony.
"You don't sound too sure." I could practically hear the frown in his voice.
I snapped. "I'm fine! Why do you keep asking me that?"
The King was taken aback. I froze. This had been the second time I had shouted at someone that week and I usually had a high range of patience.
"U-um... I'm sorry...Tired...got things to do..." And I backed out of the room, leaving a very stunned Aragorn in my wake.
Chapter Two
The next cut was very difficult because I intended to make it extremely deep. It took me twenty to thirty strokes to see red and for the wound to flow freely into the toilet. I got the idea from the book I had been reading earlier, but I was still a beginner. I hated doing this, because it hurt so much, but at the same time, I loved it. The pain took 'the pain' away.
It was now winter, and we wore thick fur coats to keep us warm. They were usually white, but as my wrists were always bleeding I wanted mine to be a peach colour. Nobody noticed my secret, how I had become addicted to cutting and carried my blade everywhere. It was the smallest kitchen knife, which I had stolen from the kitchens (obviously) and fit into my pocket perfectly.
This was how my yearly schedule went. Read, cut. Read, cut. Read, cut. My body was officially smothered in scars. In cold as well as rainy seasons, I cut my thighs and my upper arms, then wrapped them in bandages and threw the blood red tissues away. In summer, I wore long sleeves, but still had to be careful of anybody noticing. Not that they cared, but if they saw...I didn't want to see their pitying and horrifying expressions.
Sam had a girlfriend and Merry and Pippin were catching up on what they had missed in the Shire: The Green Dragon. I wasn't amused to find two very soppy and drunk hobbits stagger in the palace like zombies or something.
However, as days passed, my condition worsened. I was broken. I was sick. I was weak. No longer the stubborn Baggins I was. I was tired of being upset, depressed..Tired of being angry. I just wanted to end it.
So I went to my room, bolted it and finished the rest of the poison flask sitting on my dresser. It came with a charm: everybody else would see it as rosebey ale. Then I opened the door to my bathroom, filled the bathtub with water, took Sting out and jumped in. The blade made contact with my chest and I applied pressure. Just before I fainted, I heard a group of voices calling out to me, but I couldn't tell who they were, I was fading fast.
"FRODO!"
"Is that...blood?!"
"Paoli, get Aragorn! Quick!"
"Frodo! Can you hear me? Frodo!"
i was wrong. They do care. I wanted to cry, but I had long run out of tears. Then I fell. Into the darkness. Never to return. Well, I guess this is it. I didn't feel afraid. I had imagined driving a dagger in myself and attempting suicide many times. Ever since Mama and Papa went. The feeling always increased at some point later on. When my cousins bullied me at Brandy Hall. When Bilbo left to live with the elves. When I was stabbed with the Morgul Blade. When Boromir near killed me. When me and Pippin were kidnapped by Grishnakh. When I was tortured by Geisha. Then when I was again tortured by Snaga in Cirith Ungol. A smile passed through my numb, cold lips.
Finally, I felt so happy. Happiness. That bright glow of radiance. So this is it. My dream come true. And this time, I could feel the tears of joy streaking down my face and receiving the best present by fate. Goodbye, everyone.