CHAPTER 2 – Shadows of the Past
For those interested in the writing process this chapter is not based upon a role play but does contain direct quotes or slightly paraphrased quotes from Return of the King.
"Happy birthday, Mr Frodo. I just realised – we've been riding all day and I haven't wished you a happy birthday."
"Thank you, Sam. I wish I had brought a present for you but I'm afraid in all the hurry to be gone I forgot all about it. Isn't if funny how you plan for weeks and then, suddenly you get to the day of travelling and find that there's half a dozen jobs you haven't got time for?" Frodo pulled his cloak closer, beginning to feel the chill of the autumn night pull in around them.
"Why, bless you, Mr Frodo. I thought this was my present and if it isn't then it will suit me fine as one. To be out riding with you again to see dear old Mr Bilbo and all those elves . . . and to visit Rivendell without any cloud hanging over us . . . that's present enough for me."
Frodo leaned forward to pat Strider's neck, feeling rather guilty. He had wanted to tell Sam that they would not be going to Rivendell but he did not know how to break the news of his impending departure. And now he could not bring himself to spoil his friend's happy mood. Suddenly, Sam brought Bill to a halt and, riding just behind him, Frodo was forced to rein in Strider sharply, causing the pony to give a little whicker of concern. So excited was Sam that he did not notice and Frodo leaned forward and patted the pony's neck once more to calm him.
"If that isn't the very tree you hid behind when the Black Rider first showed up, Mr Frodo!" said Sam, pointing to the left. "It seems like a dream now."
A chill descended on Frodo's heart as his eyes followed Sam's finger to the age blasted oak. Not so much a dream but a nightmare, and one that still haunted him. Sam started forward once more and Frodo was obliged to follow, although the chill grew and his left shoulder began to ache awfully, with each step that took him closer to the memory of his first encounter with the Ring Wraith. He began to wish that they had cut across country and avoided this place, but he had felt too weak to do so. Now Frodo was not so sure whether he would have managed better travelling that way after all.
Sam began to draw further ahead. The younger hobbit's pony had travelled several steps beyond the tree when, realising that he was alone, he turned around, and his eyes widening in horror at what he saw. "Mr Frodo! Are you alright?"
Frodo did not hear him however, for at that moment he drew level with the tree. He cringed, moaning as his right hand went up to clutch at his left shoulder. Anguished eyes rolled upwards and he swayed in the saddle before sliding slowly to the ground. There was one agonised scream, as his left shoulder hit the earth and then dark lashes fluttered shut and he lay cold and still as death amongst a drift of last years leaves.
Leaping from Bill, Sam ran back to his master, desperately checking that he was still breathing before gathering him against his chest and gently patting the pale cheeks, trying in vain to rouse him. Frodo was chill to his touch and yet bathed in perspiration and for several moments Sam was at a loss what to do.
Frodo's left hand lay still and cold but his right was feebly trying to reach for the bright jewel that hung on a fine silver chain about his neck. It was then that Sam remembered a day, several months ago, when Frodo had lain in his bed thus. Lifting his friend's hand in his, Sam wrapped it about the jewel and sighed in relief as he saw the irregular movements of his master's chest slow and even out. But there was still no sign of returning consciousness.
Finally making the connection between the tree and Frodo's collapse, Sam lifted him in his arms. "Well, Mr Frodo . . . I've carried you before and I can do it again." With that he stood, surprised at how little Frodo weighed. Now that he held him Sam regretted the arguments with Rosie. It would seem that once again, his wife was more astute than he, even when it came to Frodo. Sam could almost feel his master's ribs, through the thickness of jacket and cloak. He clucked softly and the two ponies followed him as he walked as far from the accursed tree as he could with his precious bundle.
Finding a small clearing a little way from the road, Sam laid down his burden and began to wrap him in all the blankets from their packs. After that there was little he could do, except sit at Frodo's side and bathe his face with cold water from their canteens.
It was nearly an hour before Frodo's eyelids began to flutter and a faint flush of colour returned to his cheeks and lips. There was a soft sigh and then blue eyes opened and tried to focus on the world.
"Where are we? What happened?"
Sam supported Frodo with an arm around his back as he made to sit up dazedly. "We're on the Stock Road. Near the Woody End. Don't you remember, Frodo?"
Frodo blinked and tried to collect his scattered wits. "We can't stay here . . . the black rider . . ."
Sam laid a gentle hand, holding a dampened handkerchief, on Frodo's brow. "They've gone, Mr Frodo. They were destroyed when the Ring was destroyed."
Frodo closed his eyes again, shuddering as his hand moved to clutch the jewel about his neck more closely . . . he had not let go since Sam had placed it there. "Yes, of course." He opened his eyes and smiled weakly. "I'm sorry, Sam. I was confused for a moment. Did I fall off the pony?"
Not sure whether Frodo even remembered the tree, Sam decided not to mention it in case it triggered a relapse. "That's right. Perhaps we should camp here for the night and move on in the morning, when you've had more rest. You took quite a tumble."
To Sam's surprise, Frodo resisted, pushing aside the blankets and trying to rise. "No. We must move on tonight."
Sam rushed to help him, supporting Frodo when he stumbled. "I really don't think this is a good idea. You still look a mite unsteady to me." He continued to help Frodo to mount, however.
Once settled back on Strider, Frodo smiled down at him. "Come on, Sam . . . not far."
Sam sighed, well aware that once Frodo set his mind to something there was no shifting him from the path. He clambered up onto Bill and followed his master from the clearing and back onto the road. As soon as there was room however, Sam moved alongside Frodo so that he could catch him if he showed signs of falling again. But although he continued pale and quiet, Frodo seemed fairly steady once more and they rode through the star filled night thus for some time.
The road headed down a hill between hazel thickets and Sam was silent, deep in memories. Presently he became aware that Frodo was singing softly to himself. The voice was weak but it had always carried a tune well. He was singing the old walking song that Bilbo had taught him, but the words were not quite the same.
Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate;
And though I oft have passed them by,
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun.
And as if in answer, from down below, coming up the road out of the valley, voices sang:
A! Elbereth Gilthoniel!
Silivren penna miriel
O menel aglar elenath,
Gilthoniel, A! Elbereth!
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees
The starlight on the Western Seas.
The two travellers waited as a pale glimmer came through the woods towards them.
There was Gildor, once more and many other fair elven folk; and there to Sam's wonder rode Elrond and Galadriel.
The Lady sat upon a white palfrey and was robed all in glimmering white, like clouds about the Moon; for she herself seemed to shine with a soft light. On her finger was Nenya, the ring wrought of mithril, that bore a single white stone flickering like a frosty star. Galadriel smiled upon them.
"Well, Master Samwise," she said. "I hear and see that you have used my gift well. The Shire shall will now be more than ever blessed and beloved."
Sam bowed, but found nothing to say. He had forgotten how beautiful the Lady was.
Elrond wore a mantle of grey and had a star bound upon his forehead, and a silver harp was in his hand. Upon his finger, worn openly at last, was a ring of gold with a great blue stone, Vilya, mightiest of the Three. His keen healer's eye fell upon Frodo and he nudged his horse closer to the tiny hobbit, although he said nothing, other than to greet both travellers gravely and graciously.
Riding slowly behind on a small grey pony, and seeming to nod in his sleep, was Bilbo himself. He woke up and opened his eyes.
"Hullo, Frodo!" he said. "Well, I have passed the Old Took today! So that's settled. And now I think I am quite ready to go on another journey. Are you coming?"
"Yes, I am coming," said Frodo. "The Ringbearers should go together."
"Where are you going, Master?" cried Sam, though at last he thought he understood what was happening.
"To the Havens, Sam," said Frodo.
"And I can't come."
"No, Sam. Not yet anyway, not further than the Havens. Though you too were a Ring-bearer, if only for a little while. Your time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot be always torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do."
"But," said Sam, and tears started in his eyes, "I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire, too, for years and years, after all you have done."
"So I thought too once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them.
But you are my heir: all that I had and might have had I leave to you. And also you have Rosie, and Elanor; and Frodo-lad will come, and Rosie-lass, and Merry, and Goldilocks, and Pippin; and perhaps more that I cannot see.
You will be the most famous gardener in history; and will read things out of the Red Book, and keep alive the memory of the age that is gone, so that people will remember the Great Danger and so love their beloved land all the more." His voice held a note of pleading.
"Will you ride with me on this last journey? I know I am being a little selfish in this, but I did want us to ride together one last time." Even as he spoke Frodo could see the world turning grey and a wave of heat and nausea washed through him.
Sam watched his master's eyebrows draw together in confusion and his eyes roll up in their sockets. "Mr Frodo!"
Elrond had been watching Frodo closely and as soon as he saw the blue eyes begin to glaze he handed off his harp to Gildor and sprang from the saddle just in time to catch the little hobbit as he slid from his pony. The smallest Ringbearer was cradled in Elrond's arms as the elven lord looked up at Gildor.
"We need somewhere to make camp for a few hours. Know you of a place nearby?"
Gildor nodded, as he secured Elrond's harp to the saddle. "Indeed. Very close. Follow me." With that he took the reins of the elf lord's horse and led the way off the road and into the woods. Galadriel reached down and drew Elrond's cloak about Frodo to protect him from the chill night air, before the elf began to follow their guide, his long smooth stride eating up the ground as fast as any pony.
Sam spurred Bill, taking the reins of Frodo's own pony, Strider and following Elrond as closely as he may.
"Please, sir . . . What's the matter with my master? He got taken sick back on the road a ways and now this . . ."
Elrond's voice was clear but quiet, no more than a whisper of leaves to anyone passing on the road. "His body and spirit has been through too much, Samwise. He is failing.
"Oh no! Please don't let him go. Please, Master Elrond."
Elrond paused, looking across at Sam, where he sat trembling upon Bill. "I and my kin will do all we can to aid him in holding to Middle earth, but I cannot return a life once it has fled. Only one has that power and I am not privy to his thoughts." With those words he turned swiftly and followed Gildor through the coppice once more.
TBC