Chapter 12: The Seduction of Master Frodo
Frodo, who had started to offer his hand, recoiled in horror at the name 'Voldemort.' Voldemort gazed at him with stricken, sad eyes. "My dear, dear Frodo, what is the matter?" said Voldemort, taking Frodo's hand and stroking it. "What have they been telling you? Many things are said of me; almost none of them are true."
"They tell me that you seek the Ring," said Frodo, pulling his hand away.
"I seek it," said Voldemort. "But I would not take it from you by force. I had hoped that you might give it to me, freely." Frodo stared at him, defiant. "No? Frodo, you have offered the Ring to others, who refused because they lacked the power to control it. I do have that power. I would use the Ring to do good." Voldemort sat down in a chair opposite Frodo.
"Now, Frodo," said Voldemort. "Know that you are free to go at any time. However, the Ministry of Magic will put you back in Azkaban if they find you. You are safe here; I offer you my home and my hospitality for as long as it pleases you. I can even send you back to the Third Age, if you wish it. In return for my generosity, I would like you to listen to what I have to say.
"Your heroism in the Third Age is widely known. Middle Earth at that time was a place of great beauty, worth preserving. But this modern world is not like Middle Earth. It does not need to be preserved. It needs to be changed." Voldemort put down his wine and stood up. "Come with me, Frodo. There's something I want you to see." He led Frodo out of the estate, pausing to pick up a steaming black cauldron from a small antechamber. They went down a set of stone stairs into a grassy dell. Frodo stared at the silver basin standing on a stone pedestal.
"The Mirror of Galadriel," he gasped.
"Yes, indeed," said Voldemort. "It came into my possession a few months ago. I have been using it not only to see into the past, but to magically reach into it as well. That is how I brought you here, Frodo. But it will still show you visions of the present and the future. Look into it, Frodo, and ask it to show you the Shire as it is today." Voldemort filled the silver ewer with liquid from the cauldron, filled the basin, and breathed on it.
Frodo bent over the basin. When the mists cleared, he saw the green, rolling countryside of the Shire, dotted with neat hobbit-holes. He sighed with pleasure. Then to his dismay, he saw dark roads cut across the land. The hobbit-holes disappeared one by one, and large, ugly buildings took their place. They belched black smoke into the air. Metal boxes on wheels streamed down the roads. The streets were filled with Men; not a hobbit was in sight.
"Let me show you some other things," said Voldemort. And he bade the mirror show Frodo scenes of industrial wastelands, wars being fought and their aftermath, poverty, and desolation. Frodo was speechless in his horror. "I would bring everything back to the way it was," said Voldemort. "I would put things right. And you can help me do it."
Lord Voldemort put his hand on Frodo's shoulder, and gently led him back inside and up to the parlour. He knelt before Frodo, and regarded at him kindly. Then he brushed away Frodo's tears, lightly caressing his face. He poured Frodo another glass of wine. Frodo drank it, grateful for another rush of tingling warmth.
"Frodo, sweet Frodo," Voldemort said, taking Frodo's empty glass. "Do not believe what my enemies have said about me. They fear change. They fear the future. Your friends, or so they call themselves, do not really care about you. They are using you for their own purposes. They would have abandoned you to the horrors of Azkaban, to the Dementors. And they are plotting to send you back to the Third Age, with the Ring, even though your Quest there has already succeeded. They would doom you to needless suffering, torture, and mutilation." Voldemort embraced Frodo, gently stroking his hair. "I want to save you from all that. That is why I brought you here." Voldemort loosened his embrace, and looked into Frodo's eyes.
Looking up into Lord Voldemort's large, grey eyes, Frodo felt his own eyelids grow impossibly heavy. He closed his eyes. Frodo was exhausted from his ordeals with the spider, the Dementors, and Azkaban. He was nearly intoxicated from the sweet wine. He was deeply troubled by what he had seen in the Mirror. And he was completely disarmed by Lord Voldemort's fair face, courteous manner, and kind words. Frodo detected no malice, no threat, no coercion on the part of Lord Voldemort. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps he had just been misunderstood. Perhaps he wasn't a Dark Lord at all….
Frodo's head fell back and his body relaxed. Lord Voldemort gently lowered him to the floor. He undid the top buttons of Frodo's shirt and reached for the locket. "Give it to me, Frodo, my preciousss," hissed Voldemort.
Frodo, now in a twilight state between waking and sleep, heard a voice in his head say, "Yes, yes, take it, take what you want, take the Ring." Voldemort lifted his head and took off the locket. He cradled Frodo's head in his arm, and pressed the locket itself into Frodo's hands. "There is one more thing I need from you," whispered Voldemort, bending his head down. "This locket is enchanted. Only a Hobbit can open it. I need you to do this for me, precious Frodo. Open the locket."
Frodo opened his eyes slightly and looked at the shining silver locket. He thought about the last person to whom he had offered the Ring: Lady Galadriel. Sam had wanted her to take it so that she might put a stop to whoever was digging up Bagshot Row. What had she said to him? 'That is where it would begin. It would not end there, alas.'
At that moment, Frodo realized that his doom was to bear the Ring and never give it away. His fate was to destroy it. Gaining strength from some unknown reserve, Frodo heard in his head his own voice say, "No, never!"
"No!!!" Frodo cried, twisting himself from Voldemort's grasp.
"Frodo, why do you recoil from me?" Voldemort gasped. "I only want to help you." He reached again for Frodo.
"Keep away from me!" Frodo cried. "I want to leave, now!"
Just then the front doorbell rang. "Don't go just yet, dear Frodo. We have more visitors," Voldemort said, silkily. He caught Frodo's arm in a gentle, but secure grip. "Perhaps even some people you know."
