Till the End of His Days
Author: nacey
Email: tosh@opera.iinet.net.au
Category: Drama, Romance, AU
Rating: PG
Spoilers: All six books.
Summary: The story of Frodo's life after the journey of the Ring.
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JRR Tolkien, and Tolkien Enterprises. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author notes: This story is not edited. The final version may differ greatly from the one you are reading right now. I'm putting this up because people will never get to read it if I wait till it's finished, as I've got a lot of non-fandom projects going on that I'm putting most of my energies into. Anyway, back to the story... I very much thought that Lord of the Rings didn't need fan-fiction when I was reading it, until I read the ending. Then I saw the movies and it inspired me to write this little "Alternate-Universe" fic. I think that the ending that Tolkien did was absolutely perfect, and this is just my attempt at a different idea of what it could be like, mainly borne of my experience being amongst and being a person living with depression (I believe that poor Frodo had one of the most chronic cases of Post-Traumatic Stress that ever was). Constructive criticism is welcomed with open arms. As is anyone that would like to help me beta this bloody leviathan of a fic.
Website: http://www.nancylorenz.com/lothlorien/
~~*~~
Chapter Five - Anniversary of Weathertop
Old Bilbo's one hundred and thirtieth birthday came and went without much event, and life at Bag Hall was quiet and comforting for Frodo and Perry. Perry was content in her job as Frodo's maid-servant, despite her father's constant grumblings of marriage whenever she visited the Proudfoot Farm. One morning she woke, and it was a grey morning as the weather was turning, lady Summer had long turned her coat and her brother Autumn was now among them, readying the way for Winter. It was cold, and she remembered that morning that the night previous Frodo was complaining about the cold. She pulled out one of the spare quilts and went to his room, humming softly to herself. She swept into his room with gentle steps, her voice soft and lulling as she knew he liked it when she sang her tunes.
Unlike most mornings, he didn't stir, smile and sit up and greet her. Perry threw the quilt over Frodo, tucking it in around him, and with a warm smile she placed her hands on his shoulders, shaking them lightly.
"Mr. Frodo… wake up dear, it's morning." Frodo didn't move. She shook him again, but it didn't rouse him. "Mr. Frodo… Mr. Frodo… wake up. Wake up!" She didn't notice her own breaths becoming frantic as she rolled him onto his back, her hands cradling his face. She put her cheek to his nostrils and mouth, trying to keep still, trying to keep her sobs at bay. Her throat roared in pain and her eyes stung terribly. Her hands were shaking like leaves, and she all but fell over in relief as a puff of warm air flushed against her face. "Oh Frodo… dear, wake up!"
Finally, Frodo's eyelids lifted a fraction. For the first time Perry noticed that his maimed hand clutched at something close to his chest. He panted a little, eyes drifting shut again.
"No, Frodo, look at me. Look at me."
"All is darkness…"
His voice chilled her. It was the first time she'd ever heard him speak so, his very timbre to the brim with despair. The tears she had been battling spilled over her cheeks regardless, and she shook her head.
"No, no, Frodo…" She lifted him up some, trying to pull him from his funk. "Frodo please look into my eyes… please."
Frodo stirred, groaning a little, and his eyes finally opened fully. She held in a gasp; there was a mistiness in them, and a darkness around his eyelids that frightened her. She cradled his face gently, looking down at him. As she did, a tear dropped from her face and splashed on his skin. He started, gasping.
"Oh, it's warm, it's warm."
"I'm sorry," she sighed, pulling a handkerchief from his night table and dabbing at his face.
"No… I'm cold. I'm so cold." He winced a little, rolling onto his side and curling into a ball. "It hurts…"
"What hurts?"
She pulled him over onto his back again, and he pointed shakily at his chest, just below his shoulder. She frowned, wondering if perhaps he hurt himself during the night. "Just you relax, Frodo," she said, putting his arms at his side and trying her best to settle him down. "Let me have a look…"
"There is nothing you can do."
"Let me decide on that, Mr. Frodo." With great care she unbuttoned and peeled back his night-shirt and she fought to stifle a gasp. Against the dip in the middle of his chest was the single most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was silver, like shining tendrils of living ivy wrapped around a shining six pointed star made of faintly blue diamonds, sharp and glittering. In the middle of the star was a singular pure white diamond. The diamond held the colours of the rainbow as it rose and fell with Frodo's chest. The tendrils of silver twisted round and round and underneath it curled strange wing-like curls of silver. When she beheld the pendant, she saw women with long dark hair and eyes of the deepest blue in her mind. Her heart suddenly sank deep in her chest. She had never seen such women in her life. In comparison she was as a simple pebble on a riverbed to their diamond splendour, and she perhaps understood why Frodo would take no hobbit-lady for a wife. After all, she had heard from Sam the great beauties they all beheld in their journeys. She wondered if this pendant was a gift from one of them. After a long moment of gazing further, she tore her eyes away from it, looking to Frodo's shoulder. There upon the smooth pale skin of his chest where the shoulder met it was a deep scarlet run of angry flesh; a scar, from quite some time ago. It couldn't have been what was troubling him, it was an old mark.
"Frodo, dear." She sighed. "I can't see what would hurt you… this is an old wound." She made the mistake of laying her hand against it. Frodo recoiled, letting out a little whimper.
"I am wounded," he moaned, and pulled closed his shirt, "wounded; I shall never really heal."
Perry pulled up the blankets, the tears in her eyes strong and hot. It tore at her inside to see Frodo like this, so lost, so deep in despair. She resolved to herself to do all she could to comfort him. She stroked his face gently as he lay there in his sickness, on the odd occasion pressing a kiss to the knuckles of his hands. "All will be well, Mr. Frodo," she breathed to him again and again. She loved him so and she wouldn't leave his side. She made some soup that day, and tried to get him to eat it. He would not take more than a few sips, and those she couldn't help but think he consumed for her benefit rather than his own.
At lunch time she left Frodo's side briefly (who had been sleeping soundly for some hours now), and went to consult with Sam Gamgee. She knocked on the door, trying to keep calm but her knocks were frantic nonetheless. He raced to the door, and upon opening it grew pale at Perry's anxious state. His napkin from lunch still hung at his shirt.
"Oh Sam!" she gasped, tears at her eyes. "I've tended him all morning, and he's in such a terrible state!"
Sam looked equally as struck now. "What's wrong with Mr. Frodo?!" He began to race down the road of New Row, despite the napkin still dangling at his front, and Perry raced after him.
"I went to rouse him this mornin' and he just wouldn't wake up! And then he finally did but he was saying some terrible things about wounds that wouldn't heal!" Perry felt the tears burn her eyes again, and her voice shook with tears. "Oh I'll never forgive myself if he has a bad turn, Sam! I swear I did everything I could to look after him these months, I swear!"
Sam glanced back to Perry and patted her shoulder as they arrived at Bag Hall.
"I very much doubt it's anything you've done, Miss Perry," said Sam as he arrived at Frodo's room. "A better caretaker of dear Master Frodo we couldn't find anywhere." He stepped in quietly, wringing his shaking fingers as he moved to his Master's side. "Mr. Frodo?"
Frodo took a sharp breath in, and turning his head, he lifted a hand. "Sam…"
"Yes, Mr. Frodo, it's me."
His brows tilted up, eyes shooting open, and he glanced about him. "Perry… where's Perry?"
"She's here, Sir, never fear."
Perry knelt by Frodo's side, stifling sobs that shook her chest. He could hear them, and the hand that he lifted reached for her. She took the hand, pressing her lips to the knuckles and encasing the hand in her own.
"Whatever is the matter, Mr. Frodo?" said Sam softly. "What ails you?"
"It's a terrible scar on his shoulder," said Perry, panic in her voice. "It still hurts him."
A sudden understanding filled Sam's eyes, and he patted Frodo upon the head, nodding slowly. "Yes, yes Mr. Frodo. I expect it would be bothering you today." He sighed, looking to Perry. "Don't you worry yourself, Perry. Mr. Frodo will be fine."
Perry glared at Sam like he had lost his mind. "But look at him!"
"Yes, it does look bad," Sam said. "It's the anniversary of the day he took the blade of a Black Rider, Miss Perry. As good a healer as dear Lord Elrond is, he couldn't take away all of the damage that the wound gave dear Mr. Frodo. This will happen, again and again on this day, till the end of his life."
Perry covered her mouth with quivering hands, new tears spilling over her already red blotched cheeks. "I shall look after him then," she said. "For always, I swear it."
Cold fingers brushed her skin, and glancing down she saw Frodo feebly caress her arm, the faintest ghost of a smile at the corners of his mouth. She took his hand once more, smiling warmly, tilting her head.
"You rest, Mr. Frodo. I'll get you some more water and a bit of soup if you're up for it later."
Frodo nodded very slightly as Perry stood and swept from the room, her skirt ruffling lightly after her. Sam looked to Frodo then, sighing deeply and patting his friend on the arm.
"That lass cares more for you than I dare guess, Mr. Frodo."
Again, Frodo nodded.
"I can't think of anyone better to look after you, in fact." Sam nodded. "You know Rosie told me, and I never told you this mind you, that the last time Miss Perry went for supplies, she slipped off to that trader on the edge of the North Barrows - you know the one that gets his wares from Bree. Don't know what she was doin' there, Sir. Rosie guessed she was acquirin' fabric of some sort, as that fellow is best for his fabric wares." Sam scratched his chin in musing. "Well, I guess we'll all find out in the end, won't we Mr. Frodo?"
Frodo sighed, again nodding fractionally.
"Don't think she went to see her folks that day. Was too busy walkin'."
Perry was soon back, arms busy with a tray of soup and some water in a jug, and a cup. "Now, Mr. Frodo," she said, setting down the tray. "Whether you'll eat or no, you must get some of this water down you. Water heals like magic and cleanses the body, did you know that?" She smiled at him and poured him a drink. "That's what my Ma always says."
Sam smiled, folding his arms. "Well, it looks like you're in the care of an expert, Mr. Frodo. I must be getting back to my work, if you don't mind."
"That's fine," breathed Frodo.
"Just you rest up, Sir," Sam said, patting his friend once more before looking to Perry assuredly. "I'll check up on you both later this evening, just to make sure all is well."
"Thank you, Sam," Perry said. "You're a blessing."
"So are you, Miss Perry. Well, then! Cheerio!" Sam waddled off, leaving Perry to look after Frodo.
She was in and out of the room all day whilst it was light and there was cleaning to be done, but once the day was mostly over she was back in the room. As she walked back in she was surprised to find Frodo sitting up, legs dangling off the side of the bed. She gasped, racing to his side and tutting.
"Mr. Frodo, oh Frodo, you should lie down!" She sat down next to him, arm around him gently. "You're ill."
"I was just stretching myself," he said faintly, "And wondering where you were."
"I'm here," she said, "As long as you need me, Mr. Frodo."
Frodo sighed, his eyes slipping closed, and he lay himself down on Perry's lap, his strength giving up for that moment. Perry wrapped his blankets around him and rested against the wall. The day was darkening to night, and she fancied she was tired after all her work. She didn't plan to slip off into sleep, but that's exactly what happened.
~~*~~
Author: nacey
Email: tosh@opera.iinet.net.au
Category: Drama, Romance, AU
Rating: PG
Spoilers: All six books.
Summary: The story of Frodo's life after the journey of the Ring.
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JRR Tolkien, and Tolkien Enterprises. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author notes: This story is not edited. The final version may differ greatly from the one you are reading right now. I'm putting this up because people will never get to read it if I wait till it's finished, as I've got a lot of non-fandom projects going on that I'm putting most of my energies into. Anyway, back to the story... I very much thought that Lord of the Rings didn't need fan-fiction when I was reading it, until I read the ending. Then I saw the movies and it inspired me to write this little "Alternate-Universe" fic. I think that the ending that Tolkien did was absolutely perfect, and this is just my attempt at a different idea of what it could be like, mainly borne of my experience being amongst and being a person living with depression (I believe that poor Frodo had one of the most chronic cases of Post-Traumatic Stress that ever was). Constructive criticism is welcomed with open arms. As is anyone that would like to help me beta this bloody leviathan of a fic.
Website: http://www.nancylorenz.com/lothlorien/
~~*~~
Chapter Five - Anniversary of Weathertop
Old Bilbo's one hundred and thirtieth birthday came and went without much event, and life at Bag Hall was quiet and comforting for Frodo and Perry. Perry was content in her job as Frodo's maid-servant, despite her father's constant grumblings of marriage whenever she visited the Proudfoot Farm. One morning she woke, and it was a grey morning as the weather was turning, lady Summer had long turned her coat and her brother Autumn was now among them, readying the way for Winter. It was cold, and she remembered that morning that the night previous Frodo was complaining about the cold. She pulled out one of the spare quilts and went to his room, humming softly to herself. She swept into his room with gentle steps, her voice soft and lulling as she knew he liked it when she sang her tunes.
Unlike most mornings, he didn't stir, smile and sit up and greet her. Perry threw the quilt over Frodo, tucking it in around him, and with a warm smile she placed her hands on his shoulders, shaking them lightly.
"Mr. Frodo… wake up dear, it's morning." Frodo didn't move. She shook him again, but it didn't rouse him. "Mr. Frodo… Mr. Frodo… wake up. Wake up!" She didn't notice her own breaths becoming frantic as she rolled him onto his back, her hands cradling his face. She put her cheek to his nostrils and mouth, trying to keep still, trying to keep her sobs at bay. Her throat roared in pain and her eyes stung terribly. Her hands were shaking like leaves, and she all but fell over in relief as a puff of warm air flushed against her face. "Oh Frodo… dear, wake up!"
Finally, Frodo's eyelids lifted a fraction. For the first time Perry noticed that his maimed hand clutched at something close to his chest. He panted a little, eyes drifting shut again.
"No, Frodo, look at me. Look at me."
"All is darkness…"
His voice chilled her. It was the first time she'd ever heard him speak so, his very timbre to the brim with despair. The tears she had been battling spilled over her cheeks regardless, and she shook her head.
"No, no, Frodo…" She lifted him up some, trying to pull him from his funk. "Frodo please look into my eyes… please."
Frodo stirred, groaning a little, and his eyes finally opened fully. She held in a gasp; there was a mistiness in them, and a darkness around his eyelids that frightened her. She cradled his face gently, looking down at him. As she did, a tear dropped from her face and splashed on his skin. He started, gasping.
"Oh, it's warm, it's warm."
"I'm sorry," she sighed, pulling a handkerchief from his night table and dabbing at his face.
"No… I'm cold. I'm so cold." He winced a little, rolling onto his side and curling into a ball. "It hurts…"
"What hurts?"
She pulled him over onto his back again, and he pointed shakily at his chest, just below his shoulder. She frowned, wondering if perhaps he hurt himself during the night. "Just you relax, Frodo," she said, putting his arms at his side and trying her best to settle him down. "Let me have a look…"
"There is nothing you can do."
"Let me decide on that, Mr. Frodo." With great care she unbuttoned and peeled back his night-shirt and she fought to stifle a gasp. Against the dip in the middle of his chest was the single most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was silver, like shining tendrils of living ivy wrapped around a shining six pointed star made of faintly blue diamonds, sharp and glittering. In the middle of the star was a singular pure white diamond. The diamond held the colours of the rainbow as it rose and fell with Frodo's chest. The tendrils of silver twisted round and round and underneath it curled strange wing-like curls of silver. When she beheld the pendant, she saw women with long dark hair and eyes of the deepest blue in her mind. Her heart suddenly sank deep in her chest. She had never seen such women in her life. In comparison she was as a simple pebble on a riverbed to their diamond splendour, and she perhaps understood why Frodo would take no hobbit-lady for a wife. After all, she had heard from Sam the great beauties they all beheld in their journeys. She wondered if this pendant was a gift from one of them. After a long moment of gazing further, she tore her eyes away from it, looking to Frodo's shoulder. There upon the smooth pale skin of his chest where the shoulder met it was a deep scarlet run of angry flesh; a scar, from quite some time ago. It couldn't have been what was troubling him, it was an old mark.
"Frodo, dear." She sighed. "I can't see what would hurt you… this is an old wound." She made the mistake of laying her hand against it. Frodo recoiled, letting out a little whimper.
"I am wounded," he moaned, and pulled closed his shirt, "wounded; I shall never really heal."
Perry pulled up the blankets, the tears in her eyes strong and hot. It tore at her inside to see Frodo like this, so lost, so deep in despair. She resolved to herself to do all she could to comfort him. She stroked his face gently as he lay there in his sickness, on the odd occasion pressing a kiss to the knuckles of his hands. "All will be well, Mr. Frodo," she breathed to him again and again. She loved him so and she wouldn't leave his side. She made some soup that day, and tried to get him to eat it. He would not take more than a few sips, and those she couldn't help but think he consumed for her benefit rather than his own.
At lunch time she left Frodo's side briefly (who had been sleeping soundly for some hours now), and went to consult with Sam Gamgee. She knocked on the door, trying to keep calm but her knocks were frantic nonetheless. He raced to the door, and upon opening it grew pale at Perry's anxious state. His napkin from lunch still hung at his shirt.
"Oh Sam!" she gasped, tears at her eyes. "I've tended him all morning, and he's in such a terrible state!"
Sam looked equally as struck now. "What's wrong with Mr. Frodo?!" He began to race down the road of New Row, despite the napkin still dangling at his front, and Perry raced after him.
"I went to rouse him this mornin' and he just wouldn't wake up! And then he finally did but he was saying some terrible things about wounds that wouldn't heal!" Perry felt the tears burn her eyes again, and her voice shook with tears. "Oh I'll never forgive myself if he has a bad turn, Sam! I swear I did everything I could to look after him these months, I swear!"
Sam glanced back to Perry and patted her shoulder as they arrived at Bag Hall.
"I very much doubt it's anything you've done, Miss Perry," said Sam as he arrived at Frodo's room. "A better caretaker of dear Master Frodo we couldn't find anywhere." He stepped in quietly, wringing his shaking fingers as he moved to his Master's side. "Mr. Frodo?"
Frodo took a sharp breath in, and turning his head, he lifted a hand. "Sam…"
"Yes, Mr. Frodo, it's me."
His brows tilted up, eyes shooting open, and he glanced about him. "Perry… where's Perry?"
"She's here, Sir, never fear."
Perry knelt by Frodo's side, stifling sobs that shook her chest. He could hear them, and the hand that he lifted reached for her. She took the hand, pressing her lips to the knuckles and encasing the hand in her own.
"Whatever is the matter, Mr. Frodo?" said Sam softly. "What ails you?"
"It's a terrible scar on his shoulder," said Perry, panic in her voice. "It still hurts him."
A sudden understanding filled Sam's eyes, and he patted Frodo upon the head, nodding slowly. "Yes, yes Mr. Frodo. I expect it would be bothering you today." He sighed, looking to Perry. "Don't you worry yourself, Perry. Mr. Frodo will be fine."
Perry glared at Sam like he had lost his mind. "But look at him!"
"Yes, it does look bad," Sam said. "It's the anniversary of the day he took the blade of a Black Rider, Miss Perry. As good a healer as dear Lord Elrond is, he couldn't take away all of the damage that the wound gave dear Mr. Frodo. This will happen, again and again on this day, till the end of his life."
Perry covered her mouth with quivering hands, new tears spilling over her already red blotched cheeks. "I shall look after him then," she said. "For always, I swear it."
Cold fingers brushed her skin, and glancing down she saw Frodo feebly caress her arm, the faintest ghost of a smile at the corners of his mouth. She took his hand once more, smiling warmly, tilting her head.
"You rest, Mr. Frodo. I'll get you some more water and a bit of soup if you're up for it later."
Frodo nodded very slightly as Perry stood and swept from the room, her skirt ruffling lightly after her. Sam looked to Frodo then, sighing deeply and patting his friend on the arm.
"That lass cares more for you than I dare guess, Mr. Frodo."
Again, Frodo nodded.
"I can't think of anyone better to look after you, in fact." Sam nodded. "You know Rosie told me, and I never told you this mind you, that the last time Miss Perry went for supplies, she slipped off to that trader on the edge of the North Barrows - you know the one that gets his wares from Bree. Don't know what she was doin' there, Sir. Rosie guessed she was acquirin' fabric of some sort, as that fellow is best for his fabric wares." Sam scratched his chin in musing. "Well, I guess we'll all find out in the end, won't we Mr. Frodo?"
Frodo sighed, again nodding fractionally.
"Don't think she went to see her folks that day. Was too busy walkin'."
Perry was soon back, arms busy with a tray of soup and some water in a jug, and a cup. "Now, Mr. Frodo," she said, setting down the tray. "Whether you'll eat or no, you must get some of this water down you. Water heals like magic and cleanses the body, did you know that?" She smiled at him and poured him a drink. "That's what my Ma always says."
Sam smiled, folding his arms. "Well, it looks like you're in the care of an expert, Mr. Frodo. I must be getting back to my work, if you don't mind."
"That's fine," breathed Frodo.
"Just you rest up, Sir," Sam said, patting his friend once more before looking to Perry assuredly. "I'll check up on you both later this evening, just to make sure all is well."
"Thank you, Sam," Perry said. "You're a blessing."
"So are you, Miss Perry. Well, then! Cheerio!" Sam waddled off, leaving Perry to look after Frodo.
She was in and out of the room all day whilst it was light and there was cleaning to be done, but once the day was mostly over she was back in the room. As she walked back in she was surprised to find Frodo sitting up, legs dangling off the side of the bed. She gasped, racing to his side and tutting.
"Mr. Frodo, oh Frodo, you should lie down!" She sat down next to him, arm around him gently. "You're ill."
"I was just stretching myself," he said faintly, "And wondering where you were."
"I'm here," she said, "As long as you need me, Mr. Frodo."
Frodo sighed, his eyes slipping closed, and he lay himself down on Perry's lap, his strength giving up for that moment. Perry wrapped his blankets around him and rested against the wall. The day was darkening to night, and she fancied she was tired after all her work. She didn't plan to slip off into sleep, but that's exactly what happened.
~~*~~