Disclaimer: I own none of the following characters or the world in which they live. Tolkien owns such.
A/N: The following tale sort of came out on its own, a manifestation of many things we deal with today. I realize that some of the story may be hard to follow or not make sense at some parts. You needn't comment on this (or you may if you like) but I wanted to point out that life is like that. Many things that happen make the least bit of sense and have nothing to offer us later, they just are.
A tale of friendship and dark paths.
Being the Fifth Part of….
To Tread the Path of Darkness
The Will of Eru
Frodo started awake from a light sleep. His breath came to him harshly and only in great gulps, and his heart drummed painfully in his chest. He sat up and looked around. Night laid heavy upon the Fellowship and none were awake save he and the one on watch. The Elf Legolas, Frodo saw, but he turned away and gazed out into the darkness, beyond their small circle of light.
He took deep breaths, trying to calm his heart and remember what had caused the fear to rush in and engulf his entire being. No matter his effort he could not recall and he reached up--out of habit--to make certain the One Ring rested securely about his neck.
It wasn't there.
Frodo did a double take, his fingers searching and prodding for the bulge in his shirt but he found none. Panicked, he looked down to the ground, thinking perhaps the chain had broke in his sleep and laid discarded somewhere in the fallen needles and leaves of the forest floor. His mind fell upon his hand, which was fisted and a sudden coldness crept through his veins, turning blood to ice. Slowly, and with unnatural difficulty, he pried the fist open and found It nestled comfortably--innocently--in his palm.
With a cry of disgust, Frodo cast the Ring from him and clutched his defiled hand to his chest. He shook violently, praying to whoever would listen that the One had no hold on him. That he was not . . . was not taken by it . . .
Frodo shivered. He opened his eyes and looked timidly at the discarded Ring not three yards away. It glinted enticingly in the fire's glow and the small Hobbit suddenly felt lacking, as though a part of him had been torn out and cast aside, for it was unwanted . . . but needed.
Frodo leapt to his feet and ran to the It, scooped It up gently and clasped It protectively to his chest as a mother might cradle her babe.
"Frodo," came the soft voice of Legolas the Elf. "Frodo, are you well?"
Frodo jumped and turned, his cloak billowing out and hiding his clenched fist, as though it wished to aid its master in hiding his dark secret. The Hobbit saw the Elf seated upon a tall rock several yards from the most outer member of the sleeping Fellowship. Frodo could hardly see his face, for the shadows engulfed him completely.
"I heard you cry out," Legolas explained.
"C-cry out?" Frodo asked weakly. Had the Elf seen him throw the Ring and then retrieve It?
"Yes." The Elf leaned forward and the small fire, in the midst of the Fellowship, caught his sharp features and Frodo could see they were etched with worry. "When first you awoke."
So he had seen. "Legolas, I--"
The Elf held up a hand, stopping the Ring-bearer from proceeding, and shook his head. "Sh, Frodo. You have no obligation to explain matters to me." The halfling made as if to protest but Legolas continued and Frodo fell silent. "I will not lie to you, Ringbearer. I did indeed see you cast the Ring aside and I did . . ." he hesitated. "I did see."
Frodo bowed his head shamefully and tears suddenly gathered in his eyes. He sniffed weakly, hoping the Elf would not detect his weeping, and heard the Elf rise from his seat upon the rock and come to stand before him.
So very small, the Elf thought mournfully. So much like a child. He knelt before the halfling. "You are strong, Frodo," Legolas said and the Hobbit peered up at him. "So much stronger than you know . . . . So much stronger than any here." He swept an arm back to encompass the Fellowship as a whole, including himself. "None is more suited to the task that you now face. Even the Lord of Imladris could not dispute thus."
A single tear slid down the length of Frodo's pale cheek as his eyes fell over each of the Walkers, lastly upon Aragorn and Gandalf. His gaze returned to the Elf's. "I am of such little import, Legolas," he said desperately, his words so soft that the Elf almost could not hear them. "Since we set out from Rivendell I have wondered at this quest. Not what it is about, but . . . but why I offered to accept . . . accept It." Within the folds of his cloak, Frodo grasped the Ring tightly, though, what he wanted to do above ought else was to throw It from his person. But his fingers would not loosen nor relax their grip.
Legolas peered hard at the Hobbit but not in an unkindly manner. His words, too, came soft but there was a strength to them, one in which the Elf-prince hoped the Hobbit could latch on to. "You took this task upon yourself, my friend. You alone spoke."
"But why?"
The Elf did not know. Ilúvatar alone knew for certain why one small Hobbit had been called upon to shoulder a burden that greater Men would have collapsed beneath. Certainly, Legolas of Mirkwood did not understand it, but even immortals are not meant to know the will of Eru. The Elf's face softened and he spoke the only wisdom that he knew in his heart to be true: "Because you spoke."
Frodo looked hard at the Elf, somewhat surprised at this response, though too his heart was lifted by it. Legolas wiped the tears from the Hobbit's cheek and smiled down at him kindly. "Come, Ringbearer. Your chain is in need of repair, is it not?"
Frodo produced the silver chain still clinging desperately to the Ring, though it hung limp and was, as the Elf had pointed out, in need of repair. It had snapped in half.
The Hobbit frowned down at it, unnerved by the fact that he had ripped it from his neck in his sleep, for that is what he had done. Absently, his left hand felt at his neck and he winced in pain. There was a jagged red burn at the back of his neck.
"Here," the Elf offered. "Let me take a look." He pushed the Hobbit's curls aside and studied the fire-red line. "A minor wound," he stated at last, falling back on his haunches to look into the halfling's exhausted gaze. "But nevertheless a sore one." Reluctantly, he straightened to his full height and stepped back a pace. " Come, join me, and by the light of the fire and we will mend both broken chain and broken flesh at one and the same time."
~*~