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 Conclusion of….
To Tread the Path of Darkness
The Light I See In You May Save Me Yet
"What do you mean, Frodo's gone?" Pippin demanded of his cousin. He came fully awake, the painful traces of his recent episode with Durin's Bane becoming like a nightmare, the only reminder being his sore ribs, bruised body, and throbbing head.
Merry shrugged helplessly and pulled Pippin to a sitting position. "Aragorn is looking for him now," he said simply, but the fear in his eyes belied any calmness in his voice.
"When--How long....Why didn't anybody tell me, Merry?" and the anger in his voice melted as tears sprang to his eyes. He was ashamed of them and turned away in embarrassment.
"Oh, Pip," Merry breathed and he reached out to pull Pippin close. "Everything will be alright. Aragorn will find Frodo," he said with a reassurance he did not feel in the least. Night had descended long ago and the light of dawn was already visible on the eastern horizon. For all the time that passed, Aragorn had not returned and Merry worried for his elder cousin more so than he had ever worried for another before. He wanted to sit down and cry, but such a thing was not a gentlehobbit-like thing to do. He had young Peregrin to watch out for, besides, and it would not do to break down now. "Everything will be alright," he said again, this time very close to tears himself.
Pippin pushed Merry away. "Stop it, Merry," Pippin hissed angrily, hot tears burning on his cheeks. "Just stop it. Everything will not be all right. Can't you for once be honest with me? I know what we are about. I understand the danger of this Quest. Why can't you understand that, Merry? Why don't you understand that you don't have to protect me anymore?"
Suddenly, clearer to him than ever before, Merry saw a great gaping chasm separating him from his dear little cousin. He had never noticed it before, or had refused to, and now it yawned so wide that none beneath the heavens could ever hope to cross such and Merry felt very small and insignificant and useless then, with his cousin face as hard as stone. Merry hardly even recognized Pippin.
Merry wept. For fear of Frodo, for losing his Pippin, for loneliness, for the unfairness of it all--Merry did not know. But he wept nonetheless. Burying his face in his hands, Meriadoc Brandybuck cried for the first time in young Peregrin Took's memory.
Pippin stared, shocked, then pulled his dear, sweet Merry close and held him, just as Merry had once held his 'little Pip,' and he whispered sweet nothings into his ear.
Aragorn knelt down where he thought Frodo to be. He could not see the Hobbit but he could hear him, and the grasses shifted and seemed to moan and cry all their very own. The Ranger reached out a hand but hesitated at the last.
"Frodo?" Aragorn called. "Frodo, take off the Ring. Strider is here to help you."
The grasses ceased their moans and silence descended.
"Aragorn?" came a frightened cry and it seemed to the Ranger that it came from far away.
"Yes, Frodo, it is I."
The grasses rustled. "Where are you, Aragorn? I cannot see you."
"Here, right before you. Reach out to me, Frodo, and take off the Ring."
"I cannot touch you," the Hobbit whispered, fear thick on his tongue. "Go away, Aragorn, please. It is powerful. I don't want It to hurt you; I don't want It to hurt any of you."
"Take It off, Frodo," Aragorn pleaded again. He reached out and touched the Hobbit and felt his fingers entwine in soft curls. "I will take you back to the Fellowship and we will face this evil together. You need not face it alone. Please, take the Ring from your finger."
"I cannot," Frodo whimpered and Aragorn felt his heart sink in dread. Lord Elrond and Gandalf had been so confident that this small halfling could withstand the Dark Lord's malice; that he would not succumb to It's will. But he had. Already, the Fellowship had failed. "I am afraid," Frodo whispered.
Aragorn traced his hand down the Hobbit's form until he found his small hand and gripped it. "Do not be," he said. "The Ring feeds off of fear, Frodo. You must fight it; you must be strong."
For many long moments Frodo did not speak and a sudden great fear seized Aragorn's heart and he wondered at the trickery of the Ring. But, then, the air shimmered as a thing alive and suddenly Frodo was there, curled into a small ball, and with eyes sqeezed tight, he grasped Aragorn's hand as if it were his only stability in a world gone terribly mad.
Frodo's mood was dark. He stumbled along beside the Ranger, his head bowed in deep thought. He had not once spoken aloud and Aragorn had not encouraged it. His own heart was suddenly in doubt and he wanted only to return to the Fellowship and have a word with Gandalf, for this Ring was beyond any mortal man, as such had been proven in the past to the ruin of many.
They walked long that night and it was only at the breaking of dawn that Aragorn paused and cocked his head slightly to the side. Beside him Frodo continued on, so preoccupied with his own inner struggle that he did not take note of the Ranger's actions.
"Frodo," Aragorn called and the young Hobbit looked over, though the look was distracted and held little interest for the present. "Wait a moment." The Hobbit stood there obediently, waiting, his thoughts once again drifting. Aragorn nodded suddenly. "We are close." He took off in great stride and the Hobbit followed, though more slowly, until far ahead he heard the Ranger call.
"Legolas!" Laughter came then, light and beautiful and Frodo recognized it instantly as the Elf's.
"So there you are, friend Aragorn! Was you're search successful?" Frodo spied the Elf running forward and had the sudden desire to dig himself a nice hole and hide there forever.
"Aye," Aragorn replied. "He is well, though tired I deem."
"As you are certainly," the Elf said. His almond-shaped eyes turned to Frodo and the light in them dimmed somewhat. He came before him and knelt, offering the Hobbit a quiet smile. "I am pleased to 'see' you, Master Halfling," and his meaning did not go unnoted by the Hobbit. Frodo smiled weakly, as it was all his heavy heart would allow.
But then he spoke of something that had on his mind since the darkness came, something that had eluded him up until the very end. "Pippin?" he said softly. "Is my cousin well? Will you take me to him?"
Pippin was the first to see the three. He let out a cry of joy and relief and was in Frodo's arms before the others even guessed at his actions. Frodo held Pippin to him.
"I thought I had lost you," Frodo said softly and after a moment Pippin pulled away slightly.
"Lost me?" he said, incredulous. "What about you? Don't you ever do that again, do you hear me, Cousin? What ever compelled you to run away like that?"
Frodo couldn't help but smile, for Pippin sounded so much like his father then and not at all like the little lad that had once been his shadow. The smile faded, though, and he pulled Pippin close again, buried his face in the young Took's soft curls and cried softly. "I'm sorry, Pippin," he whispered. "I'm sorry that it took me so long to understand."
Now it was Pippin's turn to hold Frodo and he comforted him. "I don't blame you, Frodo. I don't blame Merry, either. Not anymore." He pushed him away gently so that he could look into his eyes. "You're crying," he said and Frodo laughed weakly, though it turned into a sob at the last. "Silly Hobbit," he murmured. "I have neither seen any of you cry."
"Then you are the silly Hobbit," Frodo retorted but there was no anger in his tone; he only sounded tired. "I have cried more times than you and Merry put together. And I have soothed Merry more times than I can recall." He smiled fondly, remembering.
Pippin looked hard at Frodo. "And who has soothed away you're hurts, Cousin?"
Frodo smiled. "You have, lad. Both you and Merry, and dear Ol' Sam," and at the last his eyes lingered off to Pippin's left and the Took followed his cousin's gaze. There stood Merry and Sam, hanging back uncomfortably. And beyond them the Fellowship shuffled about as if busy, eyes lingering on the two only when they thought the Hobbits weren't looking. As they saw Frodo and Pippin regarding them, Merry and Sam hurried to their side.
"How are you, Frodo?" Merry asked and his voice was soft and ill at ease.
Frodo heaved a sigh. "Oh, I should be better I suppose when I've had a hot meal . . ." he paused a moment, and then: "Afterwards perhaps a certain three kinsmen of mine might join me for a little talk." His hand lingered near his heart, where a cold circlet of gold was hidden by a thin layer of cloth. He forced it back down. "There is much I need tell you. And much you need tell me," he said, glancing at Pippin. Silently, the youth nodded.
"No more walking alone," Frodo said firmly and reaching out he grasped his cousins by the hand. His eyes fell to Merry and then to Sam, and he squeezed Pippin's small hand in his own. "If we are to walk these paths of darkness then we shall do so together, for the light I see in you may save me yet."
~*~
For those who have walked in their own darkness,
And been pulled free by the light of a kindred spirit.