Lord Of The Rings: The Path Of The Ring
Book one of three
1 Chapter 1 – The Grass-Border Under The Window
Frodo and Gandalf sat together in the study, thinking quietly. Gandalf had arrived sharply the night before – the 12th of April, to be exact. As Gandalf sat puffing smoke rings, Frodo looked dreamily out the window. Sam was pottering around in the garden, the nearby hobbit-children could be heard playing merrily, and older hobbits went about their business as per usual. But when Gandalf had arrived the night before, Frodo had suspected that something rather unusual was arising. The old wizard had looked more worn and tired – plus he had not visited for such a long time; nine years, in fact. Something had to be wrong.
"Last night you began to tell me strange things about my ring, Gandalf…and then you stopped, because you said that-" Frodo began, but was cut off by a knock at the door. He moved to get up, but Gandalf pushed him back into his chair with a warning look on his face and went to the door. There was another knock while Gandalf made his way through slowly (for hobbit-sized houses were not designed for wizards), and he let out an impatient 'coming!' as he hit his head on a light protruding from the ceiling.
He finally reached the door and pulled it open. A small, rather dirty hobbit stood outside in a dark blue cloak. It let out a shriek and threw itself around Gandalf's legs.
"Master Gandalf!" Sunny cried. "I have not seen you for so long! It's wonderful to see you again!" Gandalf let out a surprised gasp as she let go of his legs.
"Sunny! Come in, my dear – why, I have not seen you since you came of age!" Gandalf shut the door and ushered Sunny into the lobby. "Tell me, what brings you so far from home? It is so far for you to come!" Gandalf looked somewhat worried now. Sunny sighed, aging beyond her years.
"Home is not there anymore. Mother and father were killed. Ringwraiths," she whispered. "I have no home now. I would have got here faster, but Elianor – you remember Elianor, my horse…" Gandalf nodded. "Elianor was too old for such fast travel – the High Pass at the Far Downs did not agree with her – then she got a thorn in her leg from riding through the forests. I had to leave her…my need to reach Bag End was too urgent to dawdle at all." She sighed again, and her hood fell from over her head. Her young face was flecked with dirt and green marks from the leaves of the thick forests.
"My dear Sunny, you have come through so much…but still, you have not told me what brings you here." Gandalf replied, softly. Sunny reached into her pocket, and was about to pull something out when Frodo interrupted her.
"Excuse me, but are you Sunny Ruspin?" he asked, now standing in the doorway. Sunny nodded. "Bilbo talked about you and your father once," Frodo continued.
"Bilbo knew my father because they met once in Rivendell – mother and father were visiting relations."
"Relations? But there aren't any hobbits in Rivendell, I thought…"
"Oh…we're descended from Elves, you see." Sunny blushed slightly. There was a pause. "Gandalf," Sunny suddenly broke in. "You wanted to know why I'm here?" she added, in a more serious tone. He nodded.
Sunny took out the family tree from her pocket and handed it to him. She turned to Frodo while Gandalf examined the paper.
"I don't suppose I could sit down, could I? Only I've run all the way from the White Downs to see you, Master Frodo, and I'm rather worn out." Frodo stared at her in amazement – the White Downs had to be forty miles away!
"Of course…here, come into the study." Sunny went to follow him in, but Gandalf grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
"Sunny," he said, thrusting the paper back at her. "Do you have any idea what this means?" Sunny shook her arm off and walked into the study. Gandalf followed her.
"While I was traveling here, I overheard a conversation the Ringwraiths were having. They were discussing what my father could have done with the Ring. They do not know about me. I added myself to the tree," she said, pointing to where it read 'Sunny Ruspin, b. 2975'. Sunny paused and took a deep breath. "They said that if I destroy the ring, I could also destroy the Dark Lord. But I cannot bear the Ring to Mordor, as I will be easily swayed by its' power." She turned to Frodo. "That is why I am here, Master Frodo. The Ringwraiths know you have the Ring, and they are not far behind me. I fear you must leave as soon as possible."
"W-what do you mean? What is so terrible about this Ring?" he said, pulling it out of his pocket. Sunny jumped back suddenly, as if something had frightened her.
"Put it away!" she tried to scream, but it came out like a strangled cry. Frodo quickly tucked the ring back in his pocket and looked at Sunny. She was standing as far away from him as the walls would allow, and had turned as white as a sheet. "Sorry," she whispered, and sat down. Gandalf took a deep breath, and began to tell the story of the Elven-rings.
"In Eregion long ago many Elven-rings were made, magic rings as you call them, and they were, of course, of various kinds: some more potent and some less. The lesser rings were only essays in the craft before it was full- grown, and to the Elven-smiths they were but trifles – yet still to my mind dangerous for mortals. But the Great Rings, the Rings of Power…they were perilous." Gandalf pushed his hair out of his eyes with a slightly shaking hand. Sunny looked at Gandalf, and spoke slowly.
"A mortal, Master Frodo, who keeps one of the Great Rings, suffers many pains. He does not die, and yet he does not grow, he does not proceed, he simply continues – continues until every second of the day is a century, every day of the week an age. If he often wears the Ring to make himself invisible, then in the end he will simply fade out – he will become permanently invisible. He will be for eternity doomed to walk in the night under the eye of the dark power that rules over the Rings. Sooner or later, anyway – it all depends on how strong he is. Sooner or later the dark power will overtake him." Frodo paled suddenly, and Sunny loosened her pack from her shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. Frodo turned suddenly to Gandalf.
"You knew this?" he demanded of the old wizard.
"Yes Frodo, I knew."
"How long have you known? How much did Bilbo know?" Gandalf held up a calming hand.
"Bilbo knew no more than he told you. He would never have given you the Ring if he knew of its' powers, of it's capabilities. He told me that it was growing on him, and that he was worrying about it, yet he never seemed to blame the Ring. It was always simply something that was happening. However, he had found out that the Ring needed careful watching – it is never the same size or weight, and shrank or expanded in an odd manner – it might suddenly slip off a finger where it had been sturdy." Frodo nodded.
"Bilbo told me about that – he warned me, in his last letter. I have always kept it on its chain."
"And it was very wise of you," replied Gandalf. "I have suspected something was up with Bilbo, his manner changed in many ways, many forms. When he left this house, he said and did things that filled me with a great fear. I have spent my years since then investigating the truth about that Ring," he said, pointing to Frodo's pocket. Gandalf saw the worried look on Frodo's face, and hurriedly added that Bilbo was quite alright. There was a slight pause.
"Give me the Ring, Frodo," Gandalf said. "I would like it for a moment." Frodo nodded, and handed Gandalf the Ring. "Do you see any markings on it?" he asked.
"No," said Frodo, "there are no markings – it is plain, yet never shows a scratch or mark of its age." Gandalf nodded, then threw the Ring into the fire. Sunny and Frodo gasped, and Frodo jumped up, but Gandalf gave him a commanding look and he receded. The Ring glowed in the flickering flames, but did not melt. No apparent physical changes appeared. After some time, Gandalf closed the shutters on the window and drew the curtains – the room became dark, and more silent still. He took the tongs and plucked the Ring from the fire. He took his right hand from the handle of the tongs and picked up the Ring. Frodo and Sunny gasped. Gandalf looked up at them, surprised.
"It is quite cool," he said, "Here, Frodo – take it!" Frodo held out his palm and Gandalf dropped the Ring into it. Sunny had not backed against the wall this time, though she did not seem too comfortable. "Hold it up," Gandalf said. "And look closely!" Frodo did so, and saw fine lines – the finest pen-strokes, glinting softly along the inside and outside of the ring – lines of fire forming words, a script. They were bright enough to reflect on Frodo's eyes, so bright he had to squint to see them.
"Those letters," Sunny whispered. "They are Elvish…but the language – it is not. The language," Sunny realized out loud, "Is the tongue of Mordor." Gandalf nodded, reservedly. Frodo looked at Sunny.
"What does it say?" he asked.
"In the Common Tongue, it says…
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them."
Gandalf nodded.
"It is part of a verse long known in Elven-lore. I will speak it for you:
Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne,
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."
Frodo stood silently, watching the slight movements on Gandalf's face as he recited the verse. Gandalf looked up at Frodo, at the young hobbit's quavering eyes.
"This is the Master-ring, the One Ring to rule them all. This is the One Ring that he lost many ages ago, to the great weakening of his power. He desires it inhumanly- but he must not get it. Do you understand, Frodo?"
Frodo did not answer. He stood staring at the floor as fear enveloped him with its cold touch, and sat silently down in his chair. He unconsciously tucked the Ring back into its pocket and carried on watching nothing in particular. Sunny pushed her hair behind her ears and began to speak through the silence.
"The Ring has traveled many miles, through many masters. How it came to you, Master Frodo, is a lengthy story even when told at short, and in many ways is quite irrelevant. Until, that is, the time when the Ring came to the creature called Gollum. He had the Ring for many years, until it tried to leave him – it escaped, and that is when Bilbo found it. Gollum has been searching for it since. Gollum was always strong – he never faded. He is still strong, by all accounts I have heard. Bilbo was meant to find the ring, and therefore so were you, Master Frodo."
Gandalf cast a weary, yet satisfied glance at Sunny.
"You said the Ringwraiths knew of the Ring's location, Sunny…" Gandalf said. "How much do they know?" he asked.
"They know two words," Sunny replied. "They are 'Shire', and 'Baggins'. It is my suspicions that when Gollum was taken into Mordor, he told them as much." Gandalf nodded.
"They were my deductions also. Gollum is safe now with the Wood-Elves, he can do no more harm. For now, we must deal with the fact that the Enemy knows of the One Ring's existence, and most importantly its location. His Ringwraiths will find this place, given time. Though that may not be much time at all." Sunny nodded.
"This is terrible," Frodo whispered, and looked up at Gandalf. "Whatever am I to do? For now I am afraid. What a pity that Bilbo did not kill that vile creature Gollum while he had the chance!"
"Pity?" said Gandalf. "It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need. And he has been well rewarded, Frodo. Be sure that he took so little hurt from the evil, and escaped in the end, because he began his ownership of the Ring so – with Pity." Frodo was silent, and once more there was a long pause, neither wizard nor hobbit daring to break the silence that devoured them.
"Can the Ring not be destroyed?" Sunny asked, meekly. Gandalf shook his head.
"It is not in the will of the Bearer to hammer or smash the Ring. And your small fire, Frodo, would not melt even ordinary gold – not that you would be able to cast the Ring into there anyway. This Ring you have here has passed through it unscathed – even unheated, as you saw. There is no smith's forge in this Shire that could change it even one bit. Not even the Dwarves could do as much. It was said that dragon-fire could melt the Rings of Power, but there is no dragon left on earth in which the fire is hot enough – nor was there any dragon, not even Ancalagon the Black, who could have harmed the One Ring, the Ruling Ring, for that was made by Sauron himself." Sunny inhaled sharply, and Frodo looked up.
"The Cracks of Doom," she breathed. "The only fire hotter than that of a dragon. In the depths of Orodruin, the Fire-mountain." Sunny looked at Gandalf, who nodded. Sunny turned to Frodo. "The Ring must be cast in there if it is to be destroyed. I did not believe it when the Ringwraiths told it so, but now I fear I do."
"I wish so much to destroy it!" cried Frodo, "or at least to have it destroyed – I am not made for such treks. I do wish I had never seen the Ring, nor heard of it." Gandalf rested a hand on Frodo's shoulder.
"Such questions cannot be answered." Frodo nodded. He looked up at Gandalf.
"You are wise, and powerful – I am nothing to that – will you not take the Ring?" Gandalf sprang to his feet.
"No!" he cried. "With that power, I should have power far too great, far too terrible!" Frodo drew back, quickly – Gandalf's eyes flashed with a fire unlike any other. "Do not tempt me! For I do not wish to become like the Dark Lord himself. I dare not take it, not even to keep it save, keep it unused. Great perils lie before me." He went back to the window and drew back the curtains and the shutters. He paused, and turned to Frodo.
"As for now, the decision lies with you, but I will always help you, Frodo. I will help you bear this burden as long as it is yours to bear – but we must act soon. The Enemy is moving." Frodo moved to stare at the floor once again, as he had been before. Sunny watched him cautiously.
"I feel so very small," he whispered. "And helpless – the Enemy is so strong and terrible. Yet I dare not stay here – I love the Shire too much to subject it to such dangers. It has done nothing to deserve it. I will go, if only to save the Shire." Sunny smiled slightly at the hobbit's bravery.
"My dear Frodo!" Gandalf cried. "Hobbits are such amazing creatures – and truly you have just proved so. I will give you a traveling name – the name of Baggins is not safe anymore. You shall be Mr. Underhill. But I don't think you need go alone. Not if you know of anyone you can trust, and who would be willing to go by your side. But if you look for a companion, be careful. You never know where the Enemy may have spies and ways of hearing."
Gandalf stopped suddenly. He darted to the window, and stood silently. Then he thrust his arm out of the window and grabbed something by the hair. He pulled his arm back up and hanging by his curly locks was Sam Gamgee.
"Well now, bless my beard!" cried Gandalf. "Sam Gamgee is it? Now, what might you be doing?"
"Why…M-Mr. Gandalf, sir, I was just trimming the grass-border under the window sir, I swears!" Sunny chuckled slightly, and clapped a hand over her mouth. Frodo was also having trouble keeping a straight face.
"How much did you hear, Sam, and why were you listening?" Frodo asked, muscles tensing as he desperately tried to remain nonplussed. Sam panicked slightly.
"I, well, Mr. Frodo, I was listening because – well, you know me, I - well I heard something about Elves, sir, and you know how much I would dearly love to see Elves, and I heard a great deal I didn't understand, about an enemy, and rings, and dragons, and Mr. Bilbo…I listened because I couldn't help myself, sir." Sam gabbled, and blushed.
Suddenly Gandalf laughed.
"Elves, eh?" Sam nodded, sheepishly. "So you heard that Mr. Frodo is going away?"
"Yes, sir, and I did choke – which you heard seemingly – I was so upset. I tried not to, but it burst out of me." Frodo shook his head.
"It can't be helped, Sam. I have to go." Gandalf lifted Sam straight through the window and stood him on the floor, where he fell to his knees, trembling.
"Get up, Sam!" cried Gandalf. "I have thought of something for you. Something to shut your mouth, and punish you proper for listening. You shall go with Mr. Frodo!"
"Me, sir?" cried Sam, leaping to his feet. "Me go and see Elves and all! Hooray!" he shouted. Frodo smiled, and looked up at Gandalf, who had turned to Sunny.
"And what of you, Sunny? Where lies your path now?" the wizard asked. Sunny looked at the ceiling, and spoke softly.
"Of all the things to follow, I choose the winding path. I choose to follow the ring. And in doing so I chose to follow you, and follow you I shall, Master Frodo. All the way to the Land of Mordor." Gandalf nodded, and he and Sunny exchanged glances in some silent communication.
And so it was that Frodo, Sam and Sunny planned to leave the Shire. Two or three weeks passed, however, before Frodo made any sign of movement. It was decided that they would leave on the night of Frodo's 50th Birthday, Bilbo's 128th – for it seemed proper to follow Bilbo in this way. The three hobbits were to journey to Rivendell – the path was not too perilous, though the Road was not so easy. It was one Summer's evening that news reached the Ivy Bush and the Green Dragon concerning the sale of Bag End. Indeed, not only sold – but to the Sackville-Bagginses! For a bargain price at that.
It was told that Frodo would be moving to Buckland – Merry Brandybuck was looking out for a nice little hole (or perhaps a small house). The reality was that Merry had already chosen and purchased a quaint little house on Frodo's behalf. It was at Crickhollow in the country behind Bucklebury. As Frodo had lived to the East of the Shire before, his returning seemed more credible, and helped with the cover-up.
Gandalf stayed in the Shire for just over two months. Just after Frodo's plan had finally been arranged, at the end of June, he announced his impending departure. He had received some news that needed looking into, but he would not tell of it. He left them with warnings, and a message that at the very latest he would be back for the farewell party. After all, the hobbits may need his company on the Road.
As the Ringwraiths had not appeared, Sunny deduced that they must have taken a different road at a turning – for this both she and Frodo were very grateful, and were it not for this their quest might never have succeeded. Frodo's friends Pippin, Merry, Fatty and Folco came down to help with the packing when Autumn was well underway. By this time, Frodo was beginning to wonder what could have become of Gandalf, and if the news he had received was more than just idle gossip.
Between the seven hobbits, they turned Bag End completely upside down, and on September 20th, two covered carts went off laden with baggage to Buckland, taking the furniture and goods that Frodo had not sold. The eve of Frodo's birthday dawned and still there was no sign of Gandalf, which made Frodo more anxious still. Sunny tried to tell him that Gandalf was unlikely to get himself in any real danger, and anyway he said the farewell party at the latest – not the day before. But it was to no avail.
Thursday the 22nd September dawned, and stretched on into the evening. Frodo held his farewell feast – small, just for himself and his six companions, but he was troubled and in no mood for it. The thought that he would soon have to part with four of them weighed on his heart. He was not at all sure how to break the news to them. The four younger hobbits were in high spirits, however – the party soon became more cheerful, despite Gandalf's hovering absence. The dining room was bare but for a table and chairs, but the food (courtesy of Sam) was good, and there was good wine too – Frodo's wine had most defiantly not been included in the package the Sackville-Bagginses were receiving.
The seven sang many songs, and talked of many things, and when this was done they toasted to both Bilbo's birthday and Frodo's as was Frodo's custom, and went to bed. The party was over, and Gandalf had not come. Frodo woke restlessly during the night and went to sit in front of the fire, to watch the flames flicker and cast shadows on the wall. He could not sleep.
"I'm sure he tried to come, Master Frodo," said a voice from the kitchen door. Frodo's head snapped up, and he relaxed when he saw it was only Sunny. He sighed, and looked back at the fire. "Gandalf always kept his promises," she added, as she sat on a chair opposite Frodo. He looked up at her.
"What do you mean by that?" Sunny's lips rolled together, as if she were pondering her words.
"When I was younger, my father told me of a great party held in the Shire, far northeast of us. Gandalf came and told me he was going. He said that he would love to take me to it, but the number of guests was to be exact – it had to be one hundred and eleven. But he promised to bring me something – a present taken from the remainders of the party once it had gone. He promised to bring me the most wonderful present he could find. When he returned after the party, he gave me an envelope. It was a normal, boring envelope. I thought he had not kept his promise. He left without a word, and still I had not opened the envelope." Sunny reached into her pocket and bought out the envelope she had been talking about. She took from it two pieces of paper. "One of these helped me to reach you, Master Frodo," she said, handing him a map of the Shire. "It was Merry's map of the Shire which he gave to some of his relations when they traveled to the party. The other sheet is a letter written to me from Bilbo, telling me about my Elvish relations, and how he wished I could have come to the party. It occurred to me that promises can mean much in the world we live in today."
She sighed. "I did not understand much of his words at the time, but now they seem to make more sense than ever. But I digress, where was I…oh yes, I was trying to cheer you up." She looked at Frodo as he handed her back the map, and smiled slightly. "Yet it seems I have failed somewhat." She rose, and went to the door. "I will see you tomorrow, Master Frodo," she said, and left the room, leaving behind a rather bemused and tired, yet somewhat more optimistic hobbit. The talk of Bilbo had lightened his mood somewhat.
The next day, they packed the third cart with the remaining luggage. Merry was in charge of this, and he and Fatty left with the cart to warm the house for the others. Folco went home after lunch, but Pippin stayed behind with Frodo, Sam and Sunny. Frodo was still listening for a sound or notion of Gandalf's arrival. He decided that they would wait until nightfall to set out on their journey. After that, if Gandalf needed to see Frodo, he would go to Crickhollow – and might even get there first.
After lunch, Lobelia and Lotho Sackville-Baggins appeared (much to Frodo's annoyance).
"Ours at last!" cried Lobelia as she stepped inside – it was neither polite nor really true, as the sale of Bag End did not take effect until midnight. Lobelia had bought a long inventory that had to be gone through to ensure that nothing that she had paid for had been taken away. It took a long time to gain her confidence in the meeting of the requirements, but eventually she departed with Lotho and the spare key.
Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Sunny had tea together in the kitchen. It had been announced that Sam was coming with them to do Mr. Frodo's garden – an arrangement approved by the Gaffer. The four generously left the washing up for Lobelia, and strapped up the packs. They all split up to say their farewells to the Shire in their own ways, except for Sunny, who had no need to say farewell to Bag End (despite having lived there since the previous April), and stayed with the packs.
The four of them gathered together at the packs, Sam appearing last, wiping his mouth – he had been saying goodbye to the beer-barrel in the cellar. They strapped their packs on and hurried down the garden path. Frodo had decided that they would not go through the village, as he had heard strange voices there earlier.
"Goodbye," whispered Frodo softly as he looked back at his home. Sunny took hold of his arm and pulled him away – he would have stayed there forever if it were within his power. But it was not, and therefore it was right of Sunny to pull him away. The moon watched silently as the hobbits set off, beginning their perilous journey. It was the first step of many for the unsuspecting travelers.
Book one of three
1 Chapter 1 – The Grass-Border Under The Window
Frodo and Gandalf sat together in the study, thinking quietly. Gandalf had arrived sharply the night before – the 12th of April, to be exact. As Gandalf sat puffing smoke rings, Frodo looked dreamily out the window. Sam was pottering around in the garden, the nearby hobbit-children could be heard playing merrily, and older hobbits went about their business as per usual. But when Gandalf had arrived the night before, Frodo had suspected that something rather unusual was arising. The old wizard had looked more worn and tired – plus he had not visited for such a long time; nine years, in fact. Something had to be wrong.
"Last night you began to tell me strange things about my ring, Gandalf…and then you stopped, because you said that-" Frodo began, but was cut off by a knock at the door. He moved to get up, but Gandalf pushed him back into his chair with a warning look on his face and went to the door. There was another knock while Gandalf made his way through slowly (for hobbit-sized houses were not designed for wizards), and he let out an impatient 'coming!' as he hit his head on a light protruding from the ceiling.
He finally reached the door and pulled it open. A small, rather dirty hobbit stood outside in a dark blue cloak. It let out a shriek and threw itself around Gandalf's legs.
"Master Gandalf!" Sunny cried. "I have not seen you for so long! It's wonderful to see you again!" Gandalf let out a surprised gasp as she let go of his legs.
"Sunny! Come in, my dear – why, I have not seen you since you came of age!" Gandalf shut the door and ushered Sunny into the lobby. "Tell me, what brings you so far from home? It is so far for you to come!" Gandalf looked somewhat worried now. Sunny sighed, aging beyond her years.
"Home is not there anymore. Mother and father were killed. Ringwraiths," she whispered. "I have no home now. I would have got here faster, but Elianor – you remember Elianor, my horse…" Gandalf nodded. "Elianor was too old for such fast travel – the High Pass at the Far Downs did not agree with her – then she got a thorn in her leg from riding through the forests. I had to leave her…my need to reach Bag End was too urgent to dawdle at all." She sighed again, and her hood fell from over her head. Her young face was flecked with dirt and green marks from the leaves of the thick forests.
"My dear Sunny, you have come through so much…but still, you have not told me what brings you here." Gandalf replied, softly. Sunny reached into her pocket, and was about to pull something out when Frodo interrupted her.
"Excuse me, but are you Sunny Ruspin?" he asked, now standing in the doorway. Sunny nodded. "Bilbo talked about you and your father once," Frodo continued.
"Bilbo knew my father because they met once in Rivendell – mother and father were visiting relations."
"Relations? But there aren't any hobbits in Rivendell, I thought…"
"Oh…we're descended from Elves, you see." Sunny blushed slightly. There was a pause. "Gandalf," Sunny suddenly broke in. "You wanted to know why I'm here?" she added, in a more serious tone. He nodded.
Sunny took out the family tree from her pocket and handed it to him. She turned to Frodo while Gandalf examined the paper.
"I don't suppose I could sit down, could I? Only I've run all the way from the White Downs to see you, Master Frodo, and I'm rather worn out." Frodo stared at her in amazement – the White Downs had to be forty miles away!
"Of course…here, come into the study." Sunny went to follow him in, but Gandalf grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
"Sunny," he said, thrusting the paper back at her. "Do you have any idea what this means?" Sunny shook her arm off and walked into the study. Gandalf followed her.
"While I was traveling here, I overheard a conversation the Ringwraiths were having. They were discussing what my father could have done with the Ring. They do not know about me. I added myself to the tree," she said, pointing to where it read 'Sunny Ruspin, b. 2975'. Sunny paused and took a deep breath. "They said that if I destroy the ring, I could also destroy the Dark Lord. But I cannot bear the Ring to Mordor, as I will be easily swayed by its' power." She turned to Frodo. "That is why I am here, Master Frodo. The Ringwraiths know you have the Ring, and they are not far behind me. I fear you must leave as soon as possible."
"W-what do you mean? What is so terrible about this Ring?" he said, pulling it out of his pocket. Sunny jumped back suddenly, as if something had frightened her.
"Put it away!" she tried to scream, but it came out like a strangled cry. Frodo quickly tucked the ring back in his pocket and looked at Sunny. She was standing as far away from him as the walls would allow, and had turned as white as a sheet. "Sorry," she whispered, and sat down. Gandalf took a deep breath, and began to tell the story of the Elven-rings.
"In Eregion long ago many Elven-rings were made, magic rings as you call them, and they were, of course, of various kinds: some more potent and some less. The lesser rings were only essays in the craft before it was full- grown, and to the Elven-smiths they were but trifles – yet still to my mind dangerous for mortals. But the Great Rings, the Rings of Power…they were perilous." Gandalf pushed his hair out of his eyes with a slightly shaking hand. Sunny looked at Gandalf, and spoke slowly.
"A mortal, Master Frodo, who keeps one of the Great Rings, suffers many pains. He does not die, and yet he does not grow, he does not proceed, he simply continues – continues until every second of the day is a century, every day of the week an age. If he often wears the Ring to make himself invisible, then in the end he will simply fade out – he will become permanently invisible. He will be for eternity doomed to walk in the night under the eye of the dark power that rules over the Rings. Sooner or later, anyway – it all depends on how strong he is. Sooner or later the dark power will overtake him." Frodo paled suddenly, and Sunny loosened her pack from her shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. Frodo turned suddenly to Gandalf.
"You knew this?" he demanded of the old wizard.
"Yes Frodo, I knew."
"How long have you known? How much did Bilbo know?" Gandalf held up a calming hand.
"Bilbo knew no more than he told you. He would never have given you the Ring if he knew of its' powers, of it's capabilities. He told me that it was growing on him, and that he was worrying about it, yet he never seemed to blame the Ring. It was always simply something that was happening. However, he had found out that the Ring needed careful watching – it is never the same size or weight, and shrank or expanded in an odd manner – it might suddenly slip off a finger where it had been sturdy." Frodo nodded.
"Bilbo told me about that – he warned me, in his last letter. I have always kept it on its chain."
"And it was very wise of you," replied Gandalf. "I have suspected something was up with Bilbo, his manner changed in many ways, many forms. When he left this house, he said and did things that filled me with a great fear. I have spent my years since then investigating the truth about that Ring," he said, pointing to Frodo's pocket. Gandalf saw the worried look on Frodo's face, and hurriedly added that Bilbo was quite alright. There was a slight pause.
"Give me the Ring, Frodo," Gandalf said. "I would like it for a moment." Frodo nodded, and handed Gandalf the Ring. "Do you see any markings on it?" he asked.
"No," said Frodo, "there are no markings – it is plain, yet never shows a scratch or mark of its age." Gandalf nodded, then threw the Ring into the fire. Sunny and Frodo gasped, and Frodo jumped up, but Gandalf gave him a commanding look and he receded. The Ring glowed in the flickering flames, but did not melt. No apparent physical changes appeared. After some time, Gandalf closed the shutters on the window and drew the curtains – the room became dark, and more silent still. He took the tongs and plucked the Ring from the fire. He took his right hand from the handle of the tongs and picked up the Ring. Frodo and Sunny gasped. Gandalf looked up at them, surprised.
"It is quite cool," he said, "Here, Frodo – take it!" Frodo held out his palm and Gandalf dropped the Ring into it. Sunny had not backed against the wall this time, though she did not seem too comfortable. "Hold it up," Gandalf said. "And look closely!" Frodo did so, and saw fine lines – the finest pen-strokes, glinting softly along the inside and outside of the ring – lines of fire forming words, a script. They were bright enough to reflect on Frodo's eyes, so bright he had to squint to see them.
"Those letters," Sunny whispered. "They are Elvish…but the language – it is not. The language," Sunny realized out loud, "Is the tongue of Mordor." Gandalf nodded, reservedly. Frodo looked at Sunny.
"What does it say?" he asked.
"In the Common Tongue, it says…
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them."
Gandalf nodded.
"It is part of a verse long known in Elven-lore. I will speak it for you:
Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne,
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."
Frodo stood silently, watching the slight movements on Gandalf's face as he recited the verse. Gandalf looked up at Frodo, at the young hobbit's quavering eyes.
"This is the Master-ring, the One Ring to rule them all. This is the One Ring that he lost many ages ago, to the great weakening of his power. He desires it inhumanly- but he must not get it. Do you understand, Frodo?"
Frodo did not answer. He stood staring at the floor as fear enveloped him with its cold touch, and sat silently down in his chair. He unconsciously tucked the Ring back into its pocket and carried on watching nothing in particular. Sunny pushed her hair behind her ears and began to speak through the silence.
"The Ring has traveled many miles, through many masters. How it came to you, Master Frodo, is a lengthy story even when told at short, and in many ways is quite irrelevant. Until, that is, the time when the Ring came to the creature called Gollum. He had the Ring for many years, until it tried to leave him – it escaped, and that is when Bilbo found it. Gollum has been searching for it since. Gollum was always strong – he never faded. He is still strong, by all accounts I have heard. Bilbo was meant to find the ring, and therefore so were you, Master Frodo."
Gandalf cast a weary, yet satisfied glance at Sunny.
"You said the Ringwraiths knew of the Ring's location, Sunny…" Gandalf said. "How much do they know?" he asked.
"They know two words," Sunny replied. "They are 'Shire', and 'Baggins'. It is my suspicions that when Gollum was taken into Mordor, he told them as much." Gandalf nodded.
"They were my deductions also. Gollum is safe now with the Wood-Elves, he can do no more harm. For now, we must deal with the fact that the Enemy knows of the One Ring's existence, and most importantly its location. His Ringwraiths will find this place, given time. Though that may not be much time at all." Sunny nodded.
"This is terrible," Frodo whispered, and looked up at Gandalf. "Whatever am I to do? For now I am afraid. What a pity that Bilbo did not kill that vile creature Gollum while he had the chance!"
"Pity?" said Gandalf. "It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need. And he has been well rewarded, Frodo. Be sure that he took so little hurt from the evil, and escaped in the end, because he began his ownership of the Ring so – with Pity." Frodo was silent, and once more there was a long pause, neither wizard nor hobbit daring to break the silence that devoured them.
"Can the Ring not be destroyed?" Sunny asked, meekly. Gandalf shook his head.
"It is not in the will of the Bearer to hammer or smash the Ring. And your small fire, Frodo, would not melt even ordinary gold – not that you would be able to cast the Ring into there anyway. This Ring you have here has passed through it unscathed – even unheated, as you saw. There is no smith's forge in this Shire that could change it even one bit. Not even the Dwarves could do as much. It was said that dragon-fire could melt the Rings of Power, but there is no dragon left on earth in which the fire is hot enough – nor was there any dragon, not even Ancalagon the Black, who could have harmed the One Ring, the Ruling Ring, for that was made by Sauron himself." Sunny inhaled sharply, and Frodo looked up.
"The Cracks of Doom," she breathed. "The only fire hotter than that of a dragon. In the depths of Orodruin, the Fire-mountain." Sunny looked at Gandalf, who nodded. Sunny turned to Frodo. "The Ring must be cast in there if it is to be destroyed. I did not believe it when the Ringwraiths told it so, but now I fear I do."
"I wish so much to destroy it!" cried Frodo, "or at least to have it destroyed – I am not made for such treks. I do wish I had never seen the Ring, nor heard of it." Gandalf rested a hand on Frodo's shoulder.
"Such questions cannot be answered." Frodo nodded. He looked up at Gandalf.
"You are wise, and powerful – I am nothing to that – will you not take the Ring?" Gandalf sprang to his feet.
"No!" he cried. "With that power, I should have power far too great, far too terrible!" Frodo drew back, quickly – Gandalf's eyes flashed with a fire unlike any other. "Do not tempt me! For I do not wish to become like the Dark Lord himself. I dare not take it, not even to keep it save, keep it unused. Great perils lie before me." He went back to the window and drew back the curtains and the shutters. He paused, and turned to Frodo.
"As for now, the decision lies with you, but I will always help you, Frodo. I will help you bear this burden as long as it is yours to bear – but we must act soon. The Enemy is moving." Frodo moved to stare at the floor once again, as he had been before. Sunny watched him cautiously.
"I feel so very small," he whispered. "And helpless – the Enemy is so strong and terrible. Yet I dare not stay here – I love the Shire too much to subject it to such dangers. It has done nothing to deserve it. I will go, if only to save the Shire." Sunny smiled slightly at the hobbit's bravery.
"My dear Frodo!" Gandalf cried. "Hobbits are such amazing creatures – and truly you have just proved so. I will give you a traveling name – the name of Baggins is not safe anymore. You shall be Mr. Underhill. But I don't think you need go alone. Not if you know of anyone you can trust, and who would be willing to go by your side. But if you look for a companion, be careful. You never know where the Enemy may have spies and ways of hearing."
Gandalf stopped suddenly. He darted to the window, and stood silently. Then he thrust his arm out of the window and grabbed something by the hair. He pulled his arm back up and hanging by his curly locks was Sam Gamgee.
"Well now, bless my beard!" cried Gandalf. "Sam Gamgee is it? Now, what might you be doing?"
"Why…M-Mr. Gandalf, sir, I was just trimming the grass-border under the window sir, I swears!" Sunny chuckled slightly, and clapped a hand over her mouth. Frodo was also having trouble keeping a straight face.
"How much did you hear, Sam, and why were you listening?" Frodo asked, muscles tensing as he desperately tried to remain nonplussed. Sam panicked slightly.
"I, well, Mr. Frodo, I was listening because – well, you know me, I - well I heard something about Elves, sir, and you know how much I would dearly love to see Elves, and I heard a great deal I didn't understand, about an enemy, and rings, and dragons, and Mr. Bilbo…I listened because I couldn't help myself, sir." Sam gabbled, and blushed.
Suddenly Gandalf laughed.
"Elves, eh?" Sam nodded, sheepishly. "So you heard that Mr. Frodo is going away?"
"Yes, sir, and I did choke – which you heard seemingly – I was so upset. I tried not to, but it burst out of me." Frodo shook his head.
"It can't be helped, Sam. I have to go." Gandalf lifted Sam straight through the window and stood him on the floor, where he fell to his knees, trembling.
"Get up, Sam!" cried Gandalf. "I have thought of something for you. Something to shut your mouth, and punish you proper for listening. You shall go with Mr. Frodo!"
"Me, sir?" cried Sam, leaping to his feet. "Me go and see Elves and all! Hooray!" he shouted. Frodo smiled, and looked up at Gandalf, who had turned to Sunny.
"And what of you, Sunny? Where lies your path now?" the wizard asked. Sunny looked at the ceiling, and spoke softly.
"Of all the things to follow, I choose the winding path. I choose to follow the ring. And in doing so I chose to follow you, and follow you I shall, Master Frodo. All the way to the Land of Mordor." Gandalf nodded, and he and Sunny exchanged glances in some silent communication.
And so it was that Frodo, Sam and Sunny planned to leave the Shire. Two or three weeks passed, however, before Frodo made any sign of movement. It was decided that they would leave on the night of Frodo's 50th Birthday, Bilbo's 128th – for it seemed proper to follow Bilbo in this way. The three hobbits were to journey to Rivendell – the path was not too perilous, though the Road was not so easy. It was one Summer's evening that news reached the Ivy Bush and the Green Dragon concerning the sale of Bag End. Indeed, not only sold – but to the Sackville-Bagginses! For a bargain price at that.
It was told that Frodo would be moving to Buckland – Merry Brandybuck was looking out for a nice little hole (or perhaps a small house). The reality was that Merry had already chosen and purchased a quaint little house on Frodo's behalf. It was at Crickhollow in the country behind Bucklebury. As Frodo had lived to the East of the Shire before, his returning seemed more credible, and helped with the cover-up.
Gandalf stayed in the Shire for just over two months. Just after Frodo's plan had finally been arranged, at the end of June, he announced his impending departure. He had received some news that needed looking into, but he would not tell of it. He left them with warnings, and a message that at the very latest he would be back for the farewell party. After all, the hobbits may need his company on the Road.
As the Ringwraiths had not appeared, Sunny deduced that they must have taken a different road at a turning – for this both she and Frodo were very grateful, and were it not for this their quest might never have succeeded. Frodo's friends Pippin, Merry, Fatty and Folco came down to help with the packing when Autumn was well underway. By this time, Frodo was beginning to wonder what could have become of Gandalf, and if the news he had received was more than just idle gossip.
Between the seven hobbits, they turned Bag End completely upside down, and on September 20th, two covered carts went off laden with baggage to Buckland, taking the furniture and goods that Frodo had not sold. The eve of Frodo's birthday dawned and still there was no sign of Gandalf, which made Frodo more anxious still. Sunny tried to tell him that Gandalf was unlikely to get himself in any real danger, and anyway he said the farewell party at the latest – not the day before. But it was to no avail.
Thursday the 22nd September dawned, and stretched on into the evening. Frodo held his farewell feast – small, just for himself and his six companions, but he was troubled and in no mood for it. The thought that he would soon have to part with four of them weighed on his heart. He was not at all sure how to break the news to them. The four younger hobbits were in high spirits, however – the party soon became more cheerful, despite Gandalf's hovering absence. The dining room was bare but for a table and chairs, but the food (courtesy of Sam) was good, and there was good wine too – Frodo's wine had most defiantly not been included in the package the Sackville-Bagginses were receiving.
The seven sang many songs, and talked of many things, and when this was done they toasted to both Bilbo's birthday and Frodo's as was Frodo's custom, and went to bed. The party was over, and Gandalf had not come. Frodo woke restlessly during the night and went to sit in front of the fire, to watch the flames flicker and cast shadows on the wall. He could not sleep.
"I'm sure he tried to come, Master Frodo," said a voice from the kitchen door. Frodo's head snapped up, and he relaxed when he saw it was only Sunny. He sighed, and looked back at the fire. "Gandalf always kept his promises," she added, as she sat on a chair opposite Frodo. He looked up at her.
"What do you mean by that?" Sunny's lips rolled together, as if she were pondering her words.
"When I was younger, my father told me of a great party held in the Shire, far northeast of us. Gandalf came and told me he was going. He said that he would love to take me to it, but the number of guests was to be exact – it had to be one hundred and eleven. But he promised to bring me something – a present taken from the remainders of the party once it had gone. He promised to bring me the most wonderful present he could find. When he returned after the party, he gave me an envelope. It was a normal, boring envelope. I thought he had not kept his promise. He left without a word, and still I had not opened the envelope." Sunny reached into her pocket and bought out the envelope she had been talking about. She took from it two pieces of paper. "One of these helped me to reach you, Master Frodo," she said, handing him a map of the Shire. "It was Merry's map of the Shire which he gave to some of his relations when they traveled to the party. The other sheet is a letter written to me from Bilbo, telling me about my Elvish relations, and how he wished I could have come to the party. It occurred to me that promises can mean much in the world we live in today."
She sighed. "I did not understand much of his words at the time, but now they seem to make more sense than ever. But I digress, where was I…oh yes, I was trying to cheer you up." She looked at Frodo as he handed her back the map, and smiled slightly. "Yet it seems I have failed somewhat." She rose, and went to the door. "I will see you tomorrow, Master Frodo," she said, and left the room, leaving behind a rather bemused and tired, yet somewhat more optimistic hobbit. The talk of Bilbo had lightened his mood somewhat.
The next day, they packed the third cart with the remaining luggage. Merry was in charge of this, and he and Fatty left with the cart to warm the house for the others. Folco went home after lunch, but Pippin stayed behind with Frodo, Sam and Sunny. Frodo was still listening for a sound or notion of Gandalf's arrival. He decided that they would wait until nightfall to set out on their journey. After that, if Gandalf needed to see Frodo, he would go to Crickhollow – and might even get there first.
After lunch, Lobelia and Lotho Sackville-Baggins appeared (much to Frodo's annoyance).
"Ours at last!" cried Lobelia as she stepped inside – it was neither polite nor really true, as the sale of Bag End did not take effect until midnight. Lobelia had bought a long inventory that had to be gone through to ensure that nothing that she had paid for had been taken away. It took a long time to gain her confidence in the meeting of the requirements, but eventually she departed with Lotho and the spare key.
Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Sunny had tea together in the kitchen. It had been announced that Sam was coming with them to do Mr. Frodo's garden – an arrangement approved by the Gaffer. The four generously left the washing up for Lobelia, and strapped up the packs. They all split up to say their farewells to the Shire in their own ways, except for Sunny, who had no need to say farewell to Bag End (despite having lived there since the previous April), and stayed with the packs.
The four of them gathered together at the packs, Sam appearing last, wiping his mouth – he had been saying goodbye to the beer-barrel in the cellar. They strapped their packs on and hurried down the garden path. Frodo had decided that they would not go through the village, as he had heard strange voices there earlier.
"Goodbye," whispered Frodo softly as he looked back at his home. Sunny took hold of his arm and pulled him away – he would have stayed there forever if it were within his power. But it was not, and therefore it was right of Sunny to pull him away. The moon watched silently as the hobbits set off, beginning their perilous journey. It was the first step of many for the unsuspecting travelers.