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 Twelfth Part of….
To Tread the Path of Darkness
Lost Souls
The foulness cast its dark cloak aside and was soon replaced by a land quite different. The change came slowly and over a course of a day and a half. Such a lengthy time span was unknown to the Hobbit, who wandered the land in a dreamlike state, living in a world of memories and nightmares that shifted so fast and haphazardly that the Hobbit soon could not discern one from the other, could not recall what he was reliving and what he was experiencing anew . . .
A little Hobbit-child ran down a well-worn path, crying merrily, "Cousin Frodo! Cousin Frodo, won't you come and play?" Frodo smiled fondly at his dear little Pip and even as he opened his mouth to respond the child fell to the ground screaming and writhing as if fire consumed him, though no flame touched his clothes nor skin nor hair.
Frodo ran to him, crying, "Pippin! Pippin-lad, what is the matter? Tell me what is wrong!" But the child could not speak for the pain that wracked his small frame. Frodo held him, speaking softly and trying to soothe away his hurts, though in his heart he knew it to be a vain attempt; this was beyond him. Tears streamed down his face at the hopelessness of it all.
Suddenly, Pippin shrieked, "Why? Why, Cousin, Why!?"
"Why what, Pip?" Frodo asked, desperate for him to speak but not understanding the child's words.
"Why have you left me? What have I done?"
Frodo held the child tighter, rocking him and sobbing. "Nothing, Pippin, oh, nothing at all. You've done nothing to displease me. I am here, right here. Can't you see me?"
"Why have you left me?" Pippin cried again as if he heard not at all what Frodo said.
"I haven't left you!" Frodo sobbed. "I haven't! I'm right here. I hold you, Pip. I'm here!"
The darkness consumed them, came in and then was gone, leaving behind only a solitary figure, who knelt upon the ground, crying.
"Frodo?" The hunched figure looked up. "Frodo, are you well? Why ever do you kneel upon the ground?"
Frodo blinked, confused. Why did he kneel upon the ground? "Why--why I do not know," he admitted at length, coming to no conclusion for his odd behavior. Young Peregrin Took frowned but stepped forward and offered a hand. Frodo accepted the help.
"Are you well, Cousin?" Pippin asked, steadying Frodo, who tilted precariously on his feet. "Why, Frodo!" he gasped suddenly, spying tears in the elder Hobbit's eyes. "You've been crying!"
Frodo touched his cheeks hesitantly and was surprised to find them wet. "If I have been I don't recall why," was all the explanation he could give.
"Maybe its best you lie down," Pippin suggested, dragging his cousin to the door of Bag End, not but several yards away.
'Odd,' thought Frodo. 'I don't recall being home.' In fact, Frodo had the discomforting feeling that he hadn't seen his house for many long months and should not see it again for a good many more.
"Pippin?" Frodo inquired, somewhat embarrassed though more than a little frightened. "Were we not someplace far from Hobbiton?"
Pippin turned a worried glance on his elder cousin. "Frodo, are you certain you're feeling well?"
"I'm feeling fine!" he snapped, confused and frightened at the absurdity of it all.
"You seem to be rather . . . distracted lately. Is there something the matter?" Frodo's hand went unconsciously to his chest, where a cold, hard lump could be felt beneath his shirt and waistcoat. Pippin noted Frodo's troubled face and his frown deepened. "You can speak to me, you know that, Cousin. If there is something the matter, you would tell me, wouldn't you?"
"Don't be silly," Frodo said, brushing Pippin aside and turning away. He caressed the Ring lovingly, not wholly realizing his actions.
"I am not being silly," Pippin protested, somewhat indignant. There was something the matter with his cousin, this he knew. "If you will not speak to me of such matters won't you talk to Merry?"
"Oh, Pippin, don't be foolish! I am perfectly fine!"
"You are not 'perfectly fine,' Cousin! Why won't you talk to me?"
"Why won't you let me be?!"
Let me be . . . Let me be . . . Let me be! . . . The words echoed eerily throughout a sudden nothingness, for as he spoke them Pippin slowly faded away, along with him Bag End and the whole of Hobbiton.
Over the course of a day-and-a-half, Aragorn found, tracked, lost, relocated, and then again lost Frodo's trail. It was a winding, haphazard thing, leading one way and then another but always going south. It was as if Frodo could not make up his mind, was confused about something and hesitated often in his trek, but his ultimate goal was always in mind.
The first time Aragorn lost the trail, he was completely baffled. It was as if Frodo disappeared into thin air. He didn't relocate the winding scent until about a mile-and-a-half later, dead south, where Aragorn merely stumbled upon it by pure luck. By this time, he had a fair idea that South was the Hobbit's direction, though why and exactly where South he did not know. If truth were known, the Ranger didn't understand the Hobbit's intent. If he was going to Mordor, as his trail seemed to point out, Aragorn didn't understand why Frodo had left the company of the Fellowship. Had something horrible happened with the Ring . . . had It finally claimed him? This above anything else, made Aragorn fairly tear through the forest in search of the halfling.
Frodo stood in a haze of unrecognizable landscape. Everywhere was no longer black but a sullen gray, from the heavens above to the bare earth beneath.
Frodo peered around weakly, remembering dimly a gray-eyed someone who he ought to know from a place not so very far away. Who this someone was, though, he could not seem to recall, though a nagging irritating voice whispered in the back of his head that he ought to recall and he ought to recall now. He felt a sudden urgency to . . . flee . . . somewhere . . . .
But where? A part of him tugged him one way while another pulled him the exact opposite. It was like he was playing tug-a-war with himself.
'A silly game to play by yourself,' he thought suddenly, almost giddily, and from the grayness around him he saw a small figure come.
"Only silly to those who have others to play with," the figure said, most matter-of-factly. "I've played it alone before. Don't you remember?"
"You were very small, then," Frodo said, knowing that this was the one he had tried to recall. He stood before him, very grown up, a handsome Hobbit who had all the pretty lass' crawling all over each other to get at him. "And your sisters weren't very nice."
The younger Hobbit chuckled. "No, they told me it was possible and only smart, grown-up Hobbits could accomplish such."
Frodo smiled fondly. "You were always too eager to grow up."
The other Hobbit's smile faded. "Only because I was afraid I'd lose those most dear to me."
Frodo's own smile vanished. "I know," he said. "I realize that now . . . I never did before. But, Pip, you never lost me, and you never can. I will always be here for you."
Pippin was shaking his head. "But I've already lost you, Cousin. You have already left . . ." He sighed heavily. "Goodbye, Frodo." And Pippin, whose face was full of sorrow and a kind of disappointment, faded slowly from the gray land.
"Pippin?" Frodo called, startled and frightened at his disappearance. "Pippin, wait!" he cried and he ran after his vanished cousin. Something was not right. Pippin needed him, he knew, but he could not find him. "I haven't left you! I haven't! Come back, Pip, come back!" But the farther he ran the heavier his limbs became and slowly he was dragged to his knees by some great weight that pulled at his throat. "Wait!" he sobbed, struggling feverishly to regain his footing. He could not, though, for the weight was just too great and, finally, he collapsed in a huddled heap, crying bitterly with not to comfort him but a golden Ring.
This time It offered him no relief.
It was the night of the second day that the Ranger lost, for the third time, the halfling's trail. Once again it was as if Frodo had just vanished into thin air, causing his tracks merely to stop and continue on no more. With what all Gandalf had told him about the Ring this very well could have been the case. However, whether it was or wasn't, the Ranger did not think that Frodo vanishing with the aid of the Ring would obliterate the trail completely. To the eye, Frodo could disappear but not so that he wouldn't leave a footprint in the dirt should he step down.
Frustrated from a search that was going ill and irritated from lack of sleep, Aragorn frowned down at the last sign of Frodo's passing. He bent down and peered at the flattened grass, just the size of a Hobbit if he lay curled up in a small ball. He studied it momentarily, and then straightening, he looked around.
Aragorn wondered idly how the Fellowship was doing and if Gandalf had them following his trail or if they remained behind where the Ranger had left them. He figured they were probably on the trail. No sense in making him backtrack once he located the Hobbit, especially if they were going in the right direction anyway.
Aragorn sighed, his thoughts returning to the vanished Hobbit. After several moments of silent debating the man could think of nothing but continuing on and hope that luck was once again favoring him. He moved on but made it only several yards before he froze.
Something had caught his ear, a soft noise hardly worthy of notice save that it was oddly familiar to him. He did not dare move, straining with all his might to hear the sound again, for if he was correct in his assumption of its source then his search was complete.
And then he heard it again, though this time it was no longer the soft moan he had first heard but a piercing scream. Aragorn turned toward the noise, his heart beating frantically in his chest, and he looked down at the flattened grass at his feet.
It shifted, as if an invisible body rolled about, and Aragorn knew that Frodo had put on the One Ring.
~*~