Wedmath 3018
He hated it each time Frodo got caught within himself, lost within his own mind, leaving the World outside, hearing Life whisper to him things that only Frodo could hear.
The funny thing was that he had always loved to watch Frodo drift away, retreat himself into the depths of his own thoughts. There had been a time when he had loved to see that well-known face become all dreamy, those big hazel eyes become misty and that mouth curl into an absent little smile, a sweet private expression that Frodo usually never showed to anyone. This was a face that Frodo kept jealously hidden within himself and just for his own, something that he never shared consciously, except on those times when he got caught deep in thought and then one could see him unguarded. There had been a time when he had loved Frodo's faraway gaze and that soft smile that went with it.
But not now.
Now Frodo's gaze was faraway, yes, but those eyes were not misty, not caught in some sweet beautiful dream of his own. Now they were sad, his face a strange mixture of sweetness and sadness. Now he looked lovingly, almost tenderly, over the land. His gaze travelled from hill to river, from the grey smoke of the chimneys to the snow white of the sheep scattered here and there, and it seemed to him that Frodo was holding the valley within his gaze, as if he could seize it, possess it, embed it in his mind and hold it there like a treasure.
These days Frodo smiled no more.
And in his eyes there was something new and terrifying at the same time.
Resignation.
It was terrifying because Frodo had never surrendered to anything, he was stubborn, strong, he always knew what he wanted and fought for it. He accepted things when he had to, but he didn't like to have things arranged for him. He loved his freedom above anything else.
Now he looked as if he had to do something that pained him terribly and still he had to do it, but not because he wanted to, but…
Out of mercy.
Out of love.
So, it seemed that Merry was right, that their worst fears were coming true. For the first time, the entire Conspiracy thing made sense for him. It was not some joke or some foolish adventure. It was real, and he felt something very much like panic burning through his veins and melting in his eyes, stinging like tears.
Frodo was saying farewell.
The warm summer breeze toyed with Frodo's brown curls, arranging and disarranging them about his face with invisible fingers. Frodo closed his eyes as if to feel it better and he took a deep long breath.
"Shall I ever look down into that valley again, I wonder", Frodo muttered softly, surely talking to himself, opening his eyes and letting his gaze drift to the horizon, like a silent prayer.
Pippin felt a chill running up his spine, he closed his own eyes.
And he shivered.
END
