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/
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Chapter Seven - Off to the Havens
Such was his decision that when he left the Gamgee's house to continue on with his writing, he began to pack his things, just little things. He would organise everything, ready himself to leave. He could not be selfish and keep Perry from a full and happy life any longer. It took him a full six months to ready himself. Little Elanor grew to be a bonny little maidchild, with fair golden curls and large merry blue eyes just like her mother. Perry knew nothing of his preparations, and when he spoke to her he learnt she thought he had completed his book and thus was preparing to have it copied and sent to the Museum or some such. He didn't say whether she was right or no, no matter what he did for her own benefit he wouldn't lie to her. He refused to ever wrong her in such a way. In the time he was preparing to leave they grew closer, learning more of each other as time stretched on. A part of Frodo cried out in such terrible sadness to be leaving her and he felt thoroughly torn in two. Maybe he knew how Sam had felt, when he first told Frodo of his proposal to Rose.
He thought of Perry with little Elanor in his arms, and it steeled his will. This was truly best for her. That night he went to the Green Dragon as always, but was a little more withdrawn than usual. The way he spoke to people was final, and he looked around the room like a man in his last days. This strange behaviour was not missed by Pippin and Merry. It was lucky that they were there that day, or no one would have noticed, not even Sam who was understandably busy with his family. Pippin and Merry were always travelling around the Shire, patrolling its borders. As such they barely spent time in Hobbiton, and any time they were there was always reason for celebration.
Pippin nudged Merry that night, tipping his head and casting a look to Frodo. "Frodo's actin' funny."
Merry looked over to Frodo, jutting his bottom lip out in thought. "You think?"
"I know," Pippin said. "I think somethin's up with him."
Merry wrinkled his nose. "I think you're right, Pippin."
"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"
Merry nodded. "It's time to spy on him."
They nodded and shook hands. Taking their leave at the pub, they followed Frodo home when he'd left surprisingly early. The dull glow of his pipe could be seen in the darkness, and they crept very carefully after him. He still had the faint side effects of his bearing of the ring; heightened senses and so forth. Thankfully he heard none of their steps, nor smelled them, seemingly too engrossed in his own thoughts to notice them shadowing him. He entered Bag End, and Pippin and Merry peered inside the window.
They saw Frodo hang up his cloak, and Perry stepped through with her regular warm smile, pointing to the kitchen and no doubt asking him if he wanted a cup of tea. Frodo shook his head, and patted her shoulder in thanks before walking off down the hall. Perry folded her hands together, watching him retire, a slight little frown on her features.
"He's mad," said Pippin.
"Huh?"
"She's plum in love with him!" said Pippin. "Who'd give up a maiden like her?"
Merry shrugged, a troubled frown on his face. "You know he's always wanted to be a bachelor, Pip. I guess it's just bad luck for Perry."
Pippin sighed sadly. "Well it's not right. Look at her."
Merry did look at her, and he couldn't help but feel similarly sorry for Perry, alone in the sitting room, writing in her little brown book, her large pet cat at her feet. Pippin nudged Merry, creeping along the hillside.
"Maybe we can sneak into his study."
"Good idea, Pip."
"Thanks, Merry."
They checked the window of the study, and with some struggling and clever handiwork, were able to budge it open. Locks and such were not a priority in the Shire, even after the Scouring, as it was not in a Hobbit's nature to be distrustful of other Hobbit folk. They trusted in Merry and Pippin and the other Shirriffs to protect them of any Men-folk now, the only people they readily distrusted. It was somehow ironic that the very people they placed most of their faith in were at that very moment breaking into the property of one of the Shire's most respected citizens.
The study was frighteningly neat. Both Pippin and Merry knew Frodo to be a painfully messy fellow when it came to his study, as he had learnt all of his bad habits from Bilbo, who was similarly as disorganised. The Red Book sat at the table, notes folded inside neatly, bound and tied with string. Other papers were all neatly in drawers, and the keys to Bag End were sitting on the table next to the book. Merry pointed to the lamp on the table.
"Here - light that won't you, Pip? We might look in the cupboard here."
Pip pulled his tinderbox from his coat pocket and lit the lamp, and then brought it over to the cupboard in question. Merry pulled it open, and upon seeing what was inside, grew very pale.
"His travelling things are gone!" he gasped softly.
"No they're not… they're right here!"
Pippin pulled a bag out from underneath the study table, and frowned. It was filled with precious things, like the vial from Galadriel containing the Light of Earendil and his Elven cloak with the pin. Along with these things was a small stack of papers, bound with string. Upon bringing the light to it the cousins saw it was a collection of songs. In Frodo's firm elegant hand was written: "Songs of the Shire, by Periwinkle Proudfoot." Merry took the bag and put it back, a very serious look on his face.
"We shouldn't interfere."
Pippin glared at Merry. "Are you thinking quite straight? He's going to leave!"
"We don't know how long for," said Merry reasonably. "It might just be to go see Bilbo. You know his birthday is in two days."
"I have a very bad feelin' about this, Merry," said Pippin. "I say we follow him, jus' far enough to see where he's goin'."
Merry sighed, nodding. "Right. It's not like we don't travel around a lot anyway, yeah?"
"Yeah," agreed Pippin.
There was a bump down the hall, and exchanging panicked looks the cousins scrambled to the window, both of them trying to exit the room through the small space at once. They wriggled, their legs flailing helplessly as they tried to worm their way out.
"You - get your elbow out of my nose!"
"Get your nose out of me way then!"
"Hurry up! Someone's comin'!"
By some miracle they were able to wriggle free, one of them moving an arm or a leg and slipping through the window easily. They tumbled down the bank leading away from the window, landing in a thicket by the roadside, arms and legs akimbo.
"We keep endin' up like this, Merry."
"I know, Pippin."
"It has to stop."
"I don't know, it's kind of exciting."
They crept off before they could possibly be caught, and thought together on what they could do without meddling too much. Of course, meddling too much was never a problem for them, so their standards for such a thing were a little more lax than most folk. Either way, they made their plans too.
The next day was an autumn one and the winds outside were just beginning to grow brisk and chilly, despite the sun's efforts to warm the day. All was golden and hues of fire, and it filled Frodo's heart with sadness to leave it. He could never be completely happy to leave the Shire, for his heart and soul lay there. Frodo called Sam into the study that day, trying his best to be cheery.
"It will be Bilbo's birthday on Thursday, Sam," he said. "And he will pass the Old Took. He will be a hundred and thirty-one!"
Sam's face lit up. "So he will!" he said. "He is a marvel!"
"Well, Sam," said Frodo, "I want you to see Rose and find out if she can spare you, so that you and I can go off together. You can't go far or for a long time now, of course," he said, a little wistfully.
"Well, not very well, Mr. Frodo."
"Of course not. But never mind. You can see me on my way. Tell Rose that you won't be away very long, not more than a fortnight; and you'll come back quite safe."
Sam had known Frodo had always planned to see Bilbo on this birthday, and thought that Frodo would be away for a little while, bound to return. He wrung his fingers, looking a little sad. "I wish I could go all the way with you to Rivendell, Mr. Frodo, and see Mr. Bilbo," said Sam. "And yet the only place I really want to be in is here. I am torn in two."
Frodo understood all too well. He pushed down his similar feelings and gave a warm smile. "Poor Sam! It will feel like that, I am afraid," said Frodo. "But you will be healed. You were meant to be solid and whole, and you will be."
Sam looked confused at these words, but accepted them nonetheless. For the next two days Frodo went over his papers with Sam, showing him his thick Red Book and all of its contents. It had nearly been finished, and Frodo said that the rest was to be filled by Sam. Sam frowned, feeling ill-equipped for such a task, but accepted it nonetheless. On September the twenty-first they set out together, early in the morning whilst Perry was out on errands, and they took the old Stock Road over the hills, towards Woody End, taking their time and moving slowly. That night they camped in the Green Hills.
Perry returned to Bag End in good spirits, for she had planned a fine dinner to celebrate Bilbo's hundred and thirty-first birthday, and Frodo's fifty-third. When she got there however, she found it quite empty. She was rather confused, for she had been gone all day and Frodo should have been home. She searched Bag End high and low, and her heart began to thump heavily in her chest, her eyes burning dreadfully. She mumbled to herself under her breath, searching the meadow for him, wondering if he went to read at his tree. The tree was bare of any hobbits, and striding her way back, terrible thoughts began to race through her mind. Maybe he went for a walk and fell down. Maybe he went for a walk and grew sick again. She tried to still her shaking hands as she knocked on Rose Gamgee's door.
The door opened, Rose with arms full of Elanor, and her welcoming smile slid off her face as she saw Perry's tear-streaked and worried features.
"Oh Rosie!" she gasped. "I can't find Mr. Frodo anywhere! His pony Strider is gone! Did he go off somewhere? I would never live with myself if I was gone and he's hurt himself."
Rose's face grew firm, and she sighed, shaking her head. "I can not believe this!" she growled, turning about and stamping inside, inviting Perry in afterwards by tugging on her arm and pulling her in. "He's gone and left and not told you!"
Perry gulped, wiping at the tears on her face. "He is well? Oh my, I was so worried! Well where is he?"
Rose turned about after reaching the kitchen, bobbing Elanor up and down on her hip. "Off to Rivendell, my dear. To visit the Elves, and Mr. Bilbo."
"Why would he not tell me that?" asked Perry, her tears returning. "Why would he keep this from me?"
"I assume," said Rose, shifting the baby, "That he plans not to return."
Perry's hands shot to her mouth and she shook her head, her stomach lurching. "Oh no! Oh no, Rosie! Oh whatever will I do?" she gasped, tears spilling down her face. She looked about herself, pacing for a moment. "I must follow him!" At that Perry ran out the door, as fast as her furry feet could carry her. Rosie gasped, chasing after her.
"Oh now, what do you think you're doing, Miss Perry?!" She chased the girl all the way to Bag End, and arriving there Perry began shoving her things into one of her bags.
"I am going to serve Frodo," said Perry decidedly, wiping back her tears. "I shall not ever leave his side. I swore it to him, and I keep my vows, Rose."
Rosie was about to try to get reason into the girl, when there was a loud thump at the front door. Rosie sighed, stomping to it and opening it. The towering figures of Pippin and Merry stood in the doorway.
"Where's Perry?" cried Pippin, stepping in (rather heroically).
Perry came in from her room, hefting her bag over her shoulder. "Pippin! Merry! What is wrong?"
"Frodo's gone," said Merry, "But I see you know that."
"Yes," said Perry. "And unless you are going to stop me too, I would like you to get out of my way."
"Don't be daft," said Pippin. "We're here to help ye. We brought ye a fast pony."
A bright smile flashed upon Perry's face a moment, and she wrapped her arms around Pippin, then Merry, hugging them tightly. "Thank you! Let's not tarry!"
The three of them raced out of Bag End, mounting their ponies swiftly and setting off after Frodo. Rosie closed up Bag End behind them, shaking her head.
"They're crazy, the lot of them," she said to Elanor. "And mercy be on my poor heart if you take after your father." Elanor gurgled at her mother, drooling helplessly.
~~
It was the following afternoon when Frodo and Sam passed the tree where they had hidden from the Black Riders. It felt like ten years ago, although it was only a mere three. Sam had been dwelling in his memories of long ago when he heard a soft singing. It was Frodo, and it was the old walking-song, though 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 past 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 of the Western Seas.
Frodo and Sam halted and sat silent in the soft shadows, until they saw a shimmer as the travellers came towards them. Down the road rode the Elven Host that they had been expecting, breathtaking in their glimmering finery, their long faces warm with a longing for the Sea that they rode towards. Elrond wore a mantle of grey and had a star upon his forehead, and a silver harp was in his hand, and upon his finger was a ring of gold with a great blue stone, Vilya, mightiest of the Three. But Galadriel sat upon a white palfrey and was robed 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 wingle with stone flickering like a frosty star. Riding slowly behind on a small grey pony, and seeming to nod in his sleep, was Bilbo himself.
Elrond greeted them gravely and graciously, and Galadriel smiled upon them. "Well, Master Samwise," she said. "I hear and see that you have used my gift well. The Shire shall now be more than ever blessed and beloved." Sam bowed, but found nothing to say. He had forgotten how beautiful the Lady was.
Before him Frodo saw his fate, saw where he would go. The people before him were old, and unexpectedly so, he felt painfully young. He had seen little over fifty years of life, and whilst he was older than his companions in the Shire, these folk had a grace and beauty that was ready to pass to something greater than what anyone knew. Perhaps a little, Frodo felt afraid.
Bilbo suddenly woke up and opened his eyes. "Hullo, Frodo!" he said. "Well, I have passed the Old Took today! So now that's settled. And now I think I am quite ready to go on another journey. Are you coming?"
Frodo battled his voice, trying not to let it catch in his throat. He steeled himself. "Yes, I am coming," said Frodo, "The Ring-bearers should go together." Strangely, Galadriel and Elrond looked amused at this, but they said nothing. Sam stepped forward, his hands shaking.
"Where are you going, Master?" he cried, beginning to realise what was happening.
"To the Havens, Sam."
"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. You time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot always be torn in two." Frodo paused. He felt that he always would be. "You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do."
Sam shook his head slowly. "But," he said, 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 Rose, and Elanor; and Frodo-lad will come, and Rosie-lass, and Merry and Goldilocks and Pippin; and perhaps more that I cannot see. Your hands and your wits will be needed everywhere. You will be the Mayor, of course, as long as you want to be, and the most famous gardener in history; and you will read things out of the Red book, and keep alive the memory of the age that is gone, so people will remember the Great Danger and so love their beloved land all the more. And that will keep you as busy and happy as anyone can be, as long as your part of the Story goes on." Frodo wished that someone could have said these things to him, but he felt ready to close this chapter. "Come now, ride with me!"
Sam rode on with Frodo, and they travelled far, past the borders of the Shire and to the edge of the Sea. They then arrived at Mithlond, towards the Grey Havens in the long firth of Lune. There they met Cirdan the Shipwright, who guided them down to the Havens, where upon the quay stood a tall grey horse, upon which was a familiar figure dressed all in white. It was Gandalf, and he openly wore the Third Ring, Narya the Great, and the stone upon it was red as fire. Everyone was glad that Gandalf would be with them, and the Elves began to board the boat, Frodo leading Strider along, readying himself to go aboard.
He felt a great tension in his chest, and tears clung in his eyes. He fought them away, for he thought he should be strong in leaving behind the legacy he fought for. Next to him Sam rubbed at tears, sniffling miserably, looking upon Frodo like one might look upon a dying man.
"Oh Mr. Frodo," he sighed. "It is so sad to have you leave us."
It was then a great clatter rocked the quay, three ponies at the other end of it rearing and looking afraid at the water below. Three short hooded figures leapt off them, and the tallest of them threw back their cloaks and strode forward with teary eyes.
"You tried to give us the slip once before and failed, Frodo!" said Pippin, "This time you have nearly succeeded, but you have failed again. It was not Sam, though, that gave you away this time, but Gandalf himself!"
Merry nodded, crossing his arms. "We were goin' the wrong way."
"To Rivendell," said Gandalf, and smiled knowingly. "I thought it would be better to ride back four together, than one alone. Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea comes the end of our Fellowship in Middle Earth. I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil."
Poor little Perry couldn't contain herself any longer. She had seen the noble elf folk, and had wished to seem as noble herself, but her hot Hobbit blood betrayed her. She raced forward, her cloak flying away as she hastily unbuttoned it, tripping on it and falling at Frodo's feet and sobbing heartily. The bag she carried burst open, a few apples rolling out onto the wooden slats of the quay, and Gandalf knelt by the sobbing girl, helping her to her feet. Frodo almost fell over himself, his resolve shattering to the ground. His heart seized hard in his chest, tears bursting to life in his eyes.
"Perry!" he cried.
"I did not reckon this one upon seeing the trio. I assumed she was a cousin, or kinfolk," said Gandalf, a long smile on his old fine features.
"Oh please, Mr. Frodo!" she whimpered. "If you must leave, let me come with you! Please!"
Elrond had been beside Gandalf, and looked upon this display with some amusement. He knew what was to pass, and it did not bother him so as it did the little hobbits who were wrought with sadness. "I am sorry, dear maid, but Valinor is no place for you now. Only the Valar can choose who may step upon her shores, and those that are not blessed by them live only a short time there, their lives consumed like tinder in the fire of these sacred lands. Those of the Fellowship and those that bore the One Ring may sail over the Sea and join us, as Eru has bid. You must stay here, where you belong."
Frodo's brows tilted up, his eyes glinting with tears. He held Perry's hands gently, looking upon her sadly. "I am afraid Lord Elrond is right, Miss Perry. It is my time to leave, my time to pass into tales of old, and you must continue on - keep alive all that I held so dear."
Anger flickered in Perry's eyes, and she took her hands away, though despair still reigned in her. "Why did you not tell me? Why did you not explain this to me days ago? I worried so much for you; I cried countless tears in fear for your safety!"
Frodo sighed. "I am sorry, Perry. I knew you would come after me."
"I did," she said, tears streaming down her face. "And now I will leave with you, rules or no."
Frodo looked alarmed, but before he could say anything, his Uncle Bilbo spoke.
The old hobbit had lifted his brows, stirring from a half sleep. "I didn't know you were courting a lass, Frodo."
Frodo blushed a deep red and looked to his Uncle. "I'm not, Bilbo."
"He should be," mumbled Pippin, who was quickly nudged by Merry.
"I am sorry, Perry," he said, running a hand over the silky tresses of her hair one last time, his heart shuddering at the touch. "I must say goodbye to you now."
Perry shook her head, her feet giving way once more and her legs failing underneath her. She fell to the quay, sobbing deep and terrible sobs, covering her face with her hands. "I swore to you I would always look after you, Mr. Frodo! I swore on everything that meant anythin' to me!"
"I know," said Frodo softly, kneeling on the quay, gathering her sobbing form upright. "And that means more to me than you could ever know, Perry. You…" He fought his own tears then, closing his eyes and frowning a moment. He met her eyes once more, his own glassy and overflowing. "You wish to give so much to me, but I am not good for you. I am damaged inside, and I will never heal."
Perry frowned then, a little incredulity in her eyes. "You won't let yourself."
Frodo didn't see the amused smiles of either Elrond or Gandalf behind him. He only saw the yearning sadness in the eyes of his maid-servant. He had to convince her to stay. Perhaps then he would no longer feel the awful wrenching in his heart.
"You deserve a family, Perry. A good husband and darling children. These are things you will never have, living under me."
"And I do not want them if it means I must leave your side." She looked deep into his eyes, conviction there amongst the grief. It was a haunting look, one that left no question as to her heart's wishes. "I cannot follow you, and I would not burden you with the responsibility of my death. I will stay in the Shire, but it would be a lie if I said that I would be happy." She gave a shuddering sigh, looking down to her shaking hands. "Indeed I know there will always be a part of myself yearning to be with you. My heart will ache, it will always ache." She looked up once more. "But I will stay."
Frodo couldn't help but feel relief at that, but oddly, his heart still twisted fitfully in his chest, grief lashing him.
"It seems that your maid-servant has made her decision," said Gandalf.
"Indeed," said Elrond. "And you, Master Frodo, must make yours."
Frodo looked to his friends, the Elves, and to his Uncle Bilbo. Bilbo watched the scene quietly, and shook his head sadly.
"It'll never do, leavin' a lass in that state, my boy."
"But what of Valinor?" he said, eyes filled with a little of his own despair.
Gandalf chuckled quietly. "My dear Frodo. You will not fore-go your place there by staying behind in Hobbiton for now. We will know when you are ready to join us, and we will be there to collect you. You will always be welcome with us; do not be in such a rush to begin closure on your young life."
Frodo looked about himself with great confusion. Oh how he wanted to stay, how he wanted to be beside Perry for always. The thought of her wasting her young productive years on him soured his heart, and he cradled her face gently. "Dearest Perry, I do not want you to lose that which I know you hold dear."
"Then stay," she breathed, clutching the hand at her cheek. "For there is nothing I hold dearer than you."
His last shred of resolve and restraint slipped away, and he took Perry into his arms, sighing deeply, the girl sobbing and hugging him tightly as if her life depended on it. He looked to Bilbo over Perry's shoulder, looking absolutely miserable even though he fought the happiness bursting in his heart to have the maid in his arms.
"I am sorry, Bilbo," he said. "I thought I would be leaving with you today."
"I would have been very disappointed in you if you did, under the circumstances," said Bilbo, eyeing the lass in his nephew's arms.
Frodo got to his feet, bringing Perry up with him, and looked to Elrond, bowing his head. "I'm sorry I've caused this trouble, Lord Elrond."
"There has been no trouble, young Master Frodo," said Elrond. "I will see you soon enough, I think, though it will seem a long while to you. Do not be so hasty to concede your own ruination, for even those gifted by magic do not see all that might come to pass."
"Wise words," said Galadriel. "Be as wise and heed them, Frodo Baggins."
Frodo nodded, barely registering all that happened before him. Gandalf hugged Frodo fondly, and so did Bilbo, and with sad tears Frodo bid them goodbye as they got upon the boat that would lead them away to their own Paradise. A part of his heart yearned to go with them, but the assurance of Elrond that he would indeed go there one day seemed to comfort him. As the boat began to bear away towards the West, Frodo was barely able to hold himself upright as his cousins launched themselves towards him with great hoots, wrapping their arms about him and laughing merrily. Perry was almost crushed beneath their great weight, giggling and hiding against Frodo as the tall fellows slapped his shoulders and back.
"We should buy Perry all the mead she could want!" Pippin cried.
"And all the best cakes!" Merry added. "She helped us keep our cousin!"
Frodo sighed, trying to look stern, happiness too keen in his eyes. "You lot never fail to get me into trouble."
"Wasn't us this time," said Pippin, folding his arms. "Sweet Miss Periwinkle did it all on her own!"
Frodo looked down to Perry, still wrapped in his arms, and nodded. "Yes. I do believe we should talk of this when we get back to… well… wherever we shall live, seeing as I've given all that I own to Sam."
Sam laughed. "Don't be foolish - it's all yours. I have plenty, Sir, plenty without your things."
"Bless you, Sam," said Frodo, stepping to his friend and patting his shoulder fondly. "Then let us not waste any time and let's go home."
Two days later, they arrived home. It was a chill afternoon, and the sun was hidden by thin wispy clouds. Pippin and Merry rode off towards Buckland, singing raucously upon their ponies, triumphant in their ride to the Havens. Sam apologetically retired, and Frodo smiled to him and completely understood, bidding him a fond goodnight. Frodo then rode alone with Perry, the both of them silent, Perry seemingly discomfited by her display at the quay. Upon entering Bag End, Perry set to starting a fire and began to prepare dinner, busying herself so that she didn't have to talk to Frodo. Frodo placed his travelling bag on his table in the sitting room, watching her quietly as she set to work. He thought of what to say, of how to say what he wanted to say. All he could come up with was nothing. He thought that perhaps he should just make a start, for if he said something, the words may form themselves, for good or ill.
"Perry…" he started, but the girl shook her head.
"I don't know what you're going to say, Mr. Frodo. All I know is that I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm makin' you stay here, and I'm sorry I ruined things for you. All I thought of when I went to fetch you was how terribly sad I was." She topped fussing at the table in the kitchen and wiped her hands on her apron, stepping forward from behind it into the sitting room. In her cheeks was a deep blush. "I thought, as I came back, that I was selfish, Mr. Frodo. I took you away from going to a wonderful place, and I'm sorry, I really am." Tears began to well in her eyes now.
Frodo sighed, stepping forward and shaking his head, taking her hands in his. "Don't cry, Perry. Please."
"It wasn't till I saw those Elves, those beautiful Elves, that I think I understood." She gazed into his eyes then, tilting her head in wonder. "They were so beautiful, Mr. Frodo. More beautiful than anyone I've ever seen before. How could anything else heal your heart, when you've seen such perfection?"
Luthien Tinuviel, his mind sang softly, as he looked to Perry in the dying light of day, and the golden glow of the fire burning in the fire-place falling on the curve of her jaw. Frodo smiled gently, grazing the back of his knuckles over her cheek.
"There are things that have a beauty not measured by vision alone," he said. "Though in my eyes, their bearing is as graceful as the Queen of all Elven Kind herself." Perry looked confused, and Frodo merely squeezed her shoulder. "I am not angry at you, Perry. Indeed, I am very glad to be staying. You make us some dinner, and I shall put our cloaks and walking sticks away."
Perry smiled slightly, nodding and getting to her tasks at hand, the sheer joy of this evident in her movements. And so it was that Frodo decided to stay at the Shire, despite his journey to the Grey Havens, at least for a little while longer in his mind.
~~*~~
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/
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Chapter Seven - Off to the Havens
Such was his decision that when he left the Gamgee's house to continue on with his writing, he began to pack his things, just little things. He would organise everything, ready himself to leave. He could not be selfish and keep Perry from a full and happy life any longer. It took him a full six months to ready himself. Little Elanor grew to be a bonny little maidchild, with fair golden curls and large merry blue eyes just like her mother. Perry knew nothing of his preparations, and when he spoke to her he learnt she thought he had completed his book and thus was preparing to have it copied and sent to the Museum or some such. He didn't say whether she was right or no, no matter what he did for her own benefit he wouldn't lie to her. He refused to ever wrong her in such a way. In the time he was preparing to leave they grew closer, learning more of each other as time stretched on. A part of Frodo cried out in such terrible sadness to be leaving her and he felt thoroughly torn in two. Maybe he knew how Sam had felt, when he first told Frodo of his proposal to Rose.
He thought of Perry with little Elanor in his arms, and it steeled his will. This was truly best for her. That night he went to the Green Dragon as always, but was a little more withdrawn than usual. The way he spoke to people was final, and he looked around the room like a man in his last days. This strange behaviour was not missed by Pippin and Merry. It was lucky that they were there that day, or no one would have noticed, not even Sam who was understandably busy with his family. Pippin and Merry were always travelling around the Shire, patrolling its borders. As such they barely spent time in Hobbiton, and any time they were there was always reason for celebration.
Pippin nudged Merry that night, tipping his head and casting a look to Frodo. "Frodo's actin' funny."
Merry looked over to Frodo, jutting his bottom lip out in thought. "You think?"
"I know," Pippin said. "I think somethin's up with him."
Merry wrinkled his nose. "I think you're right, Pippin."
"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"
Merry nodded. "It's time to spy on him."
They nodded and shook hands. Taking their leave at the pub, they followed Frodo home when he'd left surprisingly early. The dull glow of his pipe could be seen in the darkness, and they crept very carefully after him. He still had the faint side effects of his bearing of the ring; heightened senses and so forth. Thankfully he heard none of their steps, nor smelled them, seemingly too engrossed in his own thoughts to notice them shadowing him. He entered Bag End, and Pippin and Merry peered inside the window.
They saw Frodo hang up his cloak, and Perry stepped through with her regular warm smile, pointing to the kitchen and no doubt asking him if he wanted a cup of tea. Frodo shook his head, and patted her shoulder in thanks before walking off down the hall. Perry folded her hands together, watching him retire, a slight little frown on her features.
"He's mad," said Pippin.
"Huh?"
"She's plum in love with him!" said Pippin. "Who'd give up a maiden like her?"
Merry shrugged, a troubled frown on his face. "You know he's always wanted to be a bachelor, Pip. I guess it's just bad luck for Perry."
Pippin sighed sadly. "Well it's not right. Look at her."
Merry did look at her, and he couldn't help but feel similarly sorry for Perry, alone in the sitting room, writing in her little brown book, her large pet cat at her feet. Pippin nudged Merry, creeping along the hillside.
"Maybe we can sneak into his study."
"Good idea, Pip."
"Thanks, Merry."
They checked the window of the study, and with some struggling and clever handiwork, were able to budge it open. Locks and such were not a priority in the Shire, even after the Scouring, as it was not in a Hobbit's nature to be distrustful of other Hobbit folk. They trusted in Merry and Pippin and the other Shirriffs to protect them of any Men-folk now, the only people they readily distrusted. It was somehow ironic that the very people they placed most of their faith in were at that very moment breaking into the property of one of the Shire's most respected citizens.
The study was frighteningly neat. Both Pippin and Merry knew Frodo to be a painfully messy fellow when it came to his study, as he had learnt all of his bad habits from Bilbo, who was similarly as disorganised. The Red Book sat at the table, notes folded inside neatly, bound and tied with string. Other papers were all neatly in drawers, and the keys to Bag End were sitting on the table next to the book. Merry pointed to the lamp on the table.
"Here - light that won't you, Pip? We might look in the cupboard here."
Pip pulled his tinderbox from his coat pocket and lit the lamp, and then brought it over to the cupboard in question. Merry pulled it open, and upon seeing what was inside, grew very pale.
"His travelling things are gone!" he gasped softly.
"No they're not… they're right here!"
Pippin pulled a bag out from underneath the study table, and frowned. It was filled with precious things, like the vial from Galadriel containing the Light of Earendil and his Elven cloak with the pin. Along with these things was a small stack of papers, bound with string. Upon bringing the light to it the cousins saw it was a collection of songs. In Frodo's firm elegant hand was written: "Songs of the Shire, by Periwinkle Proudfoot." Merry took the bag and put it back, a very serious look on his face.
"We shouldn't interfere."
Pippin glared at Merry. "Are you thinking quite straight? He's going to leave!"
"We don't know how long for," said Merry reasonably. "It might just be to go see Bilbo. You know his birthday is in two days."
"I have a very bad feelin' about this, Merry," said Pippin. "I say we follow him, jus' far enough to see where he's goin'."
Merry sighed, nodding. "Right. It's not like we don't travel around a lot anyway, yeah?"
"Yeah," agreed Pippin.
There was a bump down the hall, and exchanging panicked looks the cousins scrambled to the window, both of them trying to exit the room through the small space at once. They wriggled, their legs flailing helplessly as they tried to worm their way out.
"You - get your elbow out of my nose!"
"Get your nose out of me way then!"
"Hurry up! Someone's comin'!"
By some miracle they were able to wriggle free, one of them moving an arm or a leg and slipping through the window easily. They tumbled down the bank leading away from the window, landing in a thicket by the roadside, arms and legs akimbo.
"We keep endin' up like this, Merry."
"I know, Pippin."
"It has to stop."
"I don't know, it's kind of exciting."
They crept off before they could possibly be caught, and thought together on what they could do without meddling too much. Of course, meddling too much was never a problem for them, so their standards for such a thing were a little more lax than most folk. Either way, they made their plans too.
The next day was an autumn one and the winds outside were just beginning to grow brisk and chilly, despite the sun's efforts to warm the day. All was golden and hues of fire, and it filled Frodo's heart with sadness to leave it. He could never be completely happy to leave the Shire, for his heart and soul lay there. Frodo called Sam into the study that day, trying his best to be cheery.
"It will be Bilbo's birthday on Thursday, Sam," he said. "And he will pass the Old Took. He will be a hundred and thirty-one!"
Sam's face lit up. "So he will!" he said. "He is a marvel!"
"Well, Sam," said Frodo, "I want you to see Rose and find out if she can spare you, so that you and I can go off together. You can't go far or for a long time now, of course," he said, a little wistfully.
"Well, not very well, Mr. Frodo."
"Of course not. But never mind. You can see me on my way. Tell Rose that you won't be away very long, not more than a fortnight; and you'll come back quite safe."
Sam had known Frodo had always planned to see Bilbo on this birthday, and thought that Frodo would be away for a little while, bound to return. He wrung his fingers, looking a little sad. "I wish I could go all the way with you to Rivendell, Mr. Frodo, and see Mr. Bilbo," said Sam. "And yet the only place I really want to be in is here. I am torn in two."
Frodo understood all too well. He pushed down his similar feelings and gave a warm smile. "Poor Sam! It will feel like that, I am afraid," said Frodo. "But you will be healed. You were meant to be solid and whole, and you will be."
Sam looked confused at these words, but accepted them nonetheless. For the next two days Frodo went over his papers with Sam, showing him his thick Red Book and all of its contents. It had nearly been finished, and Frodo said that the rest was to be filled by Sam. Sam frowned, feeling ill-equipped for such a task, but accepted it nonetheless. On September the twenty-first they set out together, early in the morning whilst Perry was out on errands, and they took the old Stock Road over the hills, towards Woody End, taking their time and moving slowly. That night they camped in the Green Hills.
Perry returned to Bag End in good spirits, for she had planned a fine dinner to celebrate Bilbo's hundred and thirty-first birthday, and Frodo's fifty-third. When she got there however, she found it quite empty. She was rather confused, for she had been gone all day and Frodo should have been home. She searched Bag End high and low, and her heart began to thump heavily in her chest, her eyes burning dreadfully. She mumbled to herself under her breath, searching the meadow for him, wondering if he went to read at his tree. The tree was bare of any hobbits, and striding her way back, terrible thoughts began to race through her mind. Maybe he went for a walk and fell down. Maybe he went for a walk and grew sick again. She tried to still her shaking hands as she knocked on Rose Gamgee's door.
The door opened, Rose with arms full of Elanor, and her welcoming smile slid off her face as she saw Perry's tear-streaked and worried features.
"Oh Rosie!" she gasped. "I can't find Mr. Frodo anywhere! His pony Strider is gone! Did he go off somewhere? I would never live with myself if I was gone and he's hurt himself."
Rose's face grew firm, and she sighed, shaking her head. "I can not believe this!" she growled, turning about and stamping inside, inviting Perry in afterwards by tugging on her arm and pulling her in. "He's gone and left and not told you!"
Perry gulped, wiping at the tears on her face. "He is well? Oh my, I was so worried! Well where is he?"
Rose turned about after reaching the kitchen, bobbing Elanor up and down on her hip. "Off to Rivendell, my dear. To visit the Elves, and Mr. Bilbo."
"Why would he not tell me that?" asked Perry, her tears returning. "Why would he keep this from me?"
"I assume," said Rose, shifting the baby, "That he plans not to return."
Perry's hands shot to her mouth and she shook her head, her stomach lurching. "Oh no! Oh no, Rosie! Oh whatever will I do?" she gasped, tears spilling down her face. She looked about herself, pacing for a moment. "I must follow him!" At that Perry ran out the door, as fast as her furry feet could carry her. Rosie gasped, chasing after her.
"Oh now, what do you think you're doing, Miss Perry?!" She chased the girl all the way to Bag End, and arriving there Perry began shoving her things into one of her bags.
"I am going to serve Frodo," said Perry decidedly, wiping back her tears. "I shall not ever leave his side. I swore it to him, and I keep my vows, Rose."
Rosie was about to try to get reason into the girl, when there was a loud thump at the front door. Rosie sighed, stomping to it and opening it. The towering figures of Pippin and Merry stood in the doorway.
"Where's Perry?" cried Pippin, stepping in (rather heroically).
Perry came in from her room, hefting her bag over her shoulder. "Pippin! Merry! What is wrong?"
"Frodo's gone," said Merry, "But I see you know that."
"Yes," said Perry. "And unless you are going to stop me too, I would like you to get out of my way."
"Don't be daft," said Pippin. "We're here to help ye. We brought ye a fast pony."
A bright smile flashed upon Perry's face a moment, and she wrapped her arms around Pippin, then Merry, hugging them tightly. "Thank you! Let's not tarry!"
The three of them raced out of Bag End, mounting their ponies swiftly and setting off after Frodo. Rosie closed up Bag End behind them, shaking her head.
"They're crazy, the lot of them," she said to Elanor. "And mercy be on my poor heart if you take after your father." Elanor gurgled at her mother, drooling helplessly.
~~
It was the following afternoon when Frodo and Sam passed the tree where they had hidden from the Black Riders. It felt like ten years ago, although it was only a mere three. Sam had been dwelling in his memories of long ago when he heard a soft singing. It was Frodo, and it was the old walking-song, though 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 past 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 of the Western Seas.
Frodo and Sam halted and sat silent in the soft shadows, until they saw a shimmer as the travellers came towards them. Down the road rode the Elven Host that they had been expecting, breathtaking in their glimmering finery, their long faces warm with a longing for the Sea that they rode towards. Elrond wore a mantle of grey and had a star upon his forehead, and a silver harp was in his hand, and upon his finger was a ring of gold with a great blue stone, Vilya, mightiest of the Three. But Galadriel sat upon a white palfrey and was robed 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 wingle with stone flickering like a frosty star. Riding slowly behind on a small grey pony, and seeming to nod in his sleep, was Bilbo himself.
Elrond greeted them gravely and graciously, and Galadriel smiled upon them. "Well, Master Samwise," she said. "I hear and see that you have used my gift well. The Shire shall now be more than ever blessed and beloved." Sam bowed, but found nothing to say. He had forgotten how beautiful the Lady was.
Before him Frodo saw his fate, saw where he would go. The people before him were old, and unexpectedly so, he felt painfully young. He had seen little over fifty years of life, and whilst he was older than his companions in the Shire, these folk had a grace and beauty that was ready to pass to something greater than what anyone knew. Perhaps a little, Frodo felt afraid.
Bilbo suddenly woke up and opened his eyes. "Hullo, Frodo!" he said. "Well, I have passed the Old Took today! So now that's settled. And now I think I am quite ready to go on another journey. Are you coming?"
Frodo battled his voice, trying not to let it catch in his throat. He steeled himself. "Yes, I am coming," said Frodo, "The Ring-bearers should go together." Strangely, Galadriel and Elrond looked amused at this, but they said nothing. Sam stepped forward, his hands shaking.
"Where are you going, Master?" he cried, beginning to realise what was happening.
"To the Havens, Sam."
"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. You time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot always be torn in two." Frodo paused. He felt that he always would be. "You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do."
Sam shook his head slowly. "But," he said, 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 Rose, and Elanor; and Frodo-lad will come, and Rosie-lass, and Merry and Goldilocks and Pippin; and perhaps more that I cannot see. Your hands and your wits will be needed everywhere. You will be the Mayor, of course, as long as you want to be, and the most famous gardener in history; and you will read things out of the Red book, and keep alive the memory of the age that is gone, so people will remember the Great Danger and so love their beloved land all the more. And that will keep you as busy and happy as anyone can be, as long as your part of the Story goes on." Frodo wished that someone could have said these things to him, but he felt ready to close this chapter. "Come now, ride with me!"
Sam rode on with Frodo, and they travelled far, past the borders of the Shire and to the edge of the Sea. They then arrived at Mithlond, towards the Grey Havens in the long firth of Lune. There they met Cirdan the Shipwright, who guided them down to the Havens, where upon the quay stood a tall grey horse, upon which was a familiar figure dressed all in white. It was Gandalf, and he openly wore the Third Ring, Narya the Great, and the stone upon it was red as fire. Everyone was glad that Gandalf would be with them, and the Elves began to board the boat, Frodo leading Strider along, readying himself to go aboard.
He felt a great tension in his chest, and tears clung in his eyes. He fought them away, for he thought he should be strong in leaving behind the legacy he fought for. Next to him Sam rubbed at tears, sniffling miserably, looking upon Frodo like one might look upon a dying man.
"Oh Mr. Frodo," he sighed. "It is so sad to have you leave us."
It was then a great clatter rocked the quay, three ponies at the other end of it rearing and looking afraid at the water below. Three short hooded figures leapt off them, and the tallest of them threw back their cloaks and strode forward with teary eyes.
"You tried to give us the slip once before and failed, Frodo!" said Pippin, "This time you have nearly succeeded, but you have failed again. It was not Sam, though, that gave you away this time, but Gandalf himself!"
Merry nodded, crossing his arms. "We were goin' the wrong way."
"To Rivendell," said Gandalf, and smiled knowingly. "I thought it would be better to ride back four together, than one alone. Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea comes the end of our Fellowship in Middle Earth. I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil."
Poor little Perry couldn't contain herself any longer. She had seen the noble elf folk, and had wished to seem as noble herself, but her hot Hobbit blood betrayed her. She raced forward, her cloak flying away as she hastily unbuttoned it, tripping on it and falling at Frodo's feet and sobbing heartily. The bag she carried burst open, a few apples rolling out onto the wooden slats of the quay, and Gandalf knelt by the sobbing girl, helping her to her feet. Frodo almost fell over himself, his resolve shattering to the ground. His heart seized hard in his chest, tears bursting to life in his eyes.
"Perry!" he cried.
"I did not reckon this one upon seeing the trio. I assumed she was a cousin, or kinfolk," said Gandalf, a long smile on his old fine features.
"Oh please, Mr. Frodo!" she whimpered. "If you must leave, let me come with you! Please!"
Elrond had been beside Gandalf, and looked upon this display with some amusement. He knew what was to pass, and it did not bother him so as it did the little hobbits who were wrought with sadness. "I am sorry, dear maid, but Valinor is no place for you now. Only the Valar can choose who may step upon her shores, and those that are not blessed by them live only a short time there, their lives consumed like tinder in the fire of these sacred lands. Those of the Fellowship and those that bore the One Ring may sail over the Sea and join us, as Eru has bid. You must stay here, where you belong."
Frodo's brows tilted up, his eyes glinting with tears. He held Perry's hands gently, looking upon her sadly. "I am afraid Lord Elrond is right, Miss Perry. It is my time to leave, my time to pass into tales of old, and you must continue on - keep alive all that I held so dear."
Anger flickered in Perry's eyes, and she took her hands away, though despair still reigned in her. "Why did you not tell me? Why did you not explain this to me days ago? I worried so much for you; I cried countless tears in fear for your safety!"
Frodo sighed. "I am sorry, Perry. I knew you would come after me."
"I did," she said, tears streaming down her face. "And now I will leave with you, rules or no."
Frodo looked alarmed, but before he could say anything, his Uncle Bilbo spoke.
The old hobbit had lifted his brows, stirring from a half sleep. "I didn't know you were courting a lass, Frodo."
Frodo blushed a deep red and looked to his Uncle. "I'm not, Bilbo."
"He should be," mumbled Pippin, who was quickly nudged by Merry.
"I am sorry, Perry," he said, running a hand over the silky tresses of her hair one last time, his heart shuddering at the touch. "I must say goodbye to you now."
Perry shook her head, her feet giving way once more and her legs failing underneath her. She fell to the quay, sobbing deep and terrible sobs, covering her face with her hands. "I swore to you I would always look after you, Mr. Frodo! I swore on everything that meant anythin' to me!"
"I know," said Frodo softly, kneeling on the quay, gathering her sobbing form upright. "And that means more to me than you could ever know, Perry. You…" He fought his own tears then, closing his eyes and frowning a moment. He met her eyes once more, his own glassy and overflowing. "You wish to give so much to me, but I am not good for you. I am damaged inside, and I will never heal."
Perry frowned then, a little incredulity in her eyes. "You won't let yourself."
Frodo didn't see the amused smiles of either Elrond or Gandalf behind him. He only saw the yearning sadness in the eyes of his maid-servant. He had to convince her to stay. Perhaps then he would no longer feel the awful wrenching in his heart.
"You deserve a family, Perry. A good husband and darling children. These are things you will never have, living under me."
"And I do not want them if it means I must leave your side." She looked deep into his eyes, conviction there amongst the grief. It was a haunting look, one that left no question as to her heart's wishes. "I cannot follow you, and I would not burden you with the responsibility of my death. I will stay in the Shire, but it would be a lie if I said that I would be happy." She gave a shuddering sigh, looking down to her shaking hands. "Indeed I know there will always be a part of myself yearning to be with you. My heart will ache, it will always ache." She looked up once more. "But I will stay."
Frodo couldn't help but feel relief at that, but oddly, his heart still twisted fitfully in his chest, grief lashing him.
"It seems that your maid-servant has made her decision," said Gandalf.
"Indeed," said Elrond. "And you, Master Frodo, must make yours."
Frodo looked to his friends, the Elves, and to his Uncle Bilbo. Bilbo watched the scene quietly, and shook his head sadly.
"It'll never do, leavin' a lass in that state, my boy."
"But what of Valinor?" he said, eyes filled with a little of his own despair.
Gandalf chuckled quietly. "My dear Frodo. You will not fore-go your place there by staying behind in Hobbiton for now. We will know when you are ready to join us, and we will be there to collect you. You will always be welcome with us; do not be in such a rush to begin closure on your young life."
Frodo looked about himself with great confusion. Oh how he wanted to stay, how he wanted to be beside Perry for always. The thought of her wasting her young productive years on him soured his heart, and he cradled her face gently. "Dearest Perry, I do not want you to lose that which I know you hold dear."
"Then stay," she breathed, clutching the hand at her cheek. "For there is nothing I hold dearer than you."
His last shred of resolve and restraint slipped away, and he took Perry into his arms, sighing deeply, the girl sobbing and hugging him tightly as if her life depended on it. He looked to Bilbo over Perry's shoulder, looking absolutely miserable even though he fought the happiness bursting in his heart to have the maid in his arms.
"I am sorry, Bilbo," he said. "I thought I would be leaving with you today."
"I would have been very disappointed in you if you did, under the circumstances," said Bilbo, eyeing the lass in his nephew's arms.
Frodo got to his feet, bringing Perry up with him, and looked to Elrond, bowing his head. "I'm sorry I've caused this trouble, Lord Elrond."
"There has been no trouble, young Master Frodo," said Elrond. "I will see you soon enough, I think, though it will seem a long while to you. Do not be so hasty to concede your own ruination, for even those gifted by magic do not see all that might come to pass."
"Wise words," said Galadriel. "Be as wise and heed them, Frodo Baggins."
Frodo nodded, barely registering all that happened before him. Gandalf hugged Frodo fondly, and so did Bilbo, and with sad tears Frodo bid them goodbye as they got upon the boat that would lead them away to their own Paradise. A part of his heart yearned to go with them, but the assurance of Elrond that he would indeed go there one day seemed to comfort him. As the boat began to bear away towards the West, Frodo was barely able to hold himself upright as his cousins launched themselves towards him with great hoots, wrapping their arms about him and laughing merrily. Perry was almost crushed beneath their great weight, giggling and hiding against Frodo as the tall fellows slapped his shoulders and back.
"We should buy Perry all the mead she could want!" Pippin cried.
"And all the best cakes!" Merry added. "She helped us keep our cousin!"
Frodo sighed, trying to look stern, happiness too keen in his eyes. "You lot never fail to get me into trouble."
"Wasn't us this time," said Pippin, folding his arms. "Sweet Miss Periwinkle did it all on her own!"
Frodo looked down to Perry, still wrapped in his arms, and nodded. "Yes. I do believe we should talk of this when we get back to… well… wherever we shall live, seeing as I've given all that I own to Sam."
Sam laughed. "Don't be foolish - it's all yours. I have plenty, Sir, plenty without your things."
"Bless you, Sam," said Frodo, stepping to his friend and patting his shoulder fondly. "Then let us not waste any time and let's go home."
Two days later, they arrived home. It was a chill afternoon, and the sun was hidden by thin wispy clouds. Pippin and Merry rode off towards Buckland, singing raucously upon their ponies, triumphant in their ride to the Havens. Sam apologetically retired, and Frodo smiled to him and completely understood, bidding him a fond goodnight. Frodo then rode alone with Perry, the both of them silent, Perry seemingly discomfited by her display at the quay. Upon entering Bag End, Perry set to starting a fire and began to prepare dinner, busying herself so that she didn't have to talk to Frodo. Frodo placed his travelling bag on his table in the sitting room, watching her quietly as she set to work. He thought of what to say, of how to say what he wanted to say. All he could come up with was nothing. He thought that perhaps he should just make a start, for if he said something, the words may form themselves, for good or ill.
"Perry…" he started, but the girl shook her head.
"I don't know what you're going to say, Mr. Frodo. All I know is that I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm makin' you stay here, and I'm sorry I ruined things for you. All I thought of when I went to fetch you was how terribly sad I was." She topped fussing at the table in the kitchen and wiped her hands on her apron, stepping forward from behind it into the sitting room. In her cheeks was a deep blush. "I thought, as I came back, that I was selfish, Mr. Frodo. I took you away from going to a wonderful place, and I'm sorry, I really am." Tears began to well in her eyes now.
Frodo sighed, stepping forward and shaking his head, taking her hands in his. "Don't cry, Perry. Please."
"It wasn't till I saw those Elves, those beautiful Elves, that I think I understood." She gazed into his eyes then, tilting her head in wonder. "They were so beautiful, Mr. Frodo. More beautiful than anyone I've ever seen before. How could anything else heal your heart, when you've seen such perfection?"
Luthien Tinuviel, his mind sang softly, as he looked to Perry in the dying light of day, and the golden glow of the fire burning in the fire-place falling on the curve of her jaw. Frodo smiled gently, grazing the back of his knuckles over her cheek.
"There are things that have a beauty not measured by vision alone," he said. "Though in my eyes, their bearing is as graceful as the Queen of all Elven Kind herself." Perry looked confused, and Frodo merely squeezed her shoulder. "I am not angry at you, Perry. Indeed, I am very glad to be staying. You make us some dinner, and I shall put our cloaks and walking sticks away."
Perry smiled slightly, nodding and getting to her tasks at hand, the sheer joy of this evident in her movements. And so it was that Frodo decided to stay at the Shire, despite his journey to the Grey Havens, at least for a little while longer in his mind.
~~*~~