Chapter 25

Gone . . . It was gone . . . they had made him destroy It . . . his precious. Frodo moaned and rolled onto his side, trying to move away from the pain and despair. He was alone. It had whispered in his mind for all those months and now there was only silence. Even though Its words had been poison he had grown used to Its presence and with It's destruction came no peace. It had insinuated Its way into his soul and then had been ripped away . . . taking half of his soul and much of his mind with It. Not only had he lost It but he had lost much of himself too. Frodo's life would never be the same again. He would never be whole again. He mourned his loss.

"Sam?"

Where was Sam? Sam always helped him when he was hurting. Through all those months of the journey Sam had been his comforter and protector . . . had made sure that he ate . . . had given him more than his share of the water . . . had even tried to wrap him in his own body when they no longer had any blankets. But now Frodo was alone. He had never felt so alone in all his life . . . even after Bilbo left. There had always been someone there to comfort him.

The agony in his neck redoubled and Frodo cried out. A part of him knew that he was already lying on the floor and yet he could feel himself falling . . . spinning. Spiralling down . . . down . . . down.

She had done this to him. He could feel her sharp nip and taste the sour poison as it sped through his exhausted body. Where was Sam? Frodo did not want to die alone . . . not in this cold bleak place. With no arms to embrace him . . . any gentle words of comfort . . . any warm touch. It was becoming difficult to draw breath through the pain . . . so difficult to move.

Warm fingers swept lightly across his forehead . . . trailing calm in their wake. He was lifted and laid down upon something that willingly accepted to his agonised body . . . enfolded in warm blankets. A soft voice murmured words that he could not understand. Frodo was no longer alone with his pain in the icy darkness of the mountains.

"Sam?"

"No, Frodo. Sam is not here."

He was not alone then? With strangers? Orcs? No . . . the voice was to lilting to be orc. Did they want It? He no longer had It. He had nothing. There was nothing left to live for . . . no reason to continue the struggle to inhale life-giving air. He just wanted it to end . . . the pain . . . the emptiness . . . the fight to live. Was he living or had he died?

A small, warm, wriggling something was laid at his side, moulding itself to the contours of Frodo's body. Gradually there came awareness that the whimpers he could hear were not his own. Frodo felt fingers working at the buttons on his waistcoat and shirt and the warmth nuzzled closer. Suddenly there was a gentle and rhythmic tugging at his chest and the whimpers ceased.

Calimore.

Frodo was not alone. His life was no longer empty. There was a future to look forward to. He took a deep breath and brought up a leaden arm to cradle the bundle at his side, his fingers brushing the silky hair upon small feet. A hand came up to rest against his chest, tiny fingers splayed wide and warm against his skin.

The pain receded, taking despair and loneliness with it, and Frodo managed to open his eyes at last.

He was lying upon his bed, wrapped in a blanket, with Calimore nursing contentedly. How had he got here? His last memory was of going to the nursery to collect his child for the mid-morning feed. Then there had been a sharp pain at the back of his neck and the room had begun to spin wildly. Blinking about him, Frodo found Bilbo sitting at his bedside. The old hobbit's face was filled with concern but when he saw his nephew's eyes focus upon him at last the lines smoothed a little.

"Bilbo? How long have you been here?" Frodo was surprised at how weak his voice sounded and tried to clear his throat.

"Only a little while, lad. Master Elrond sent for me when they found you. I'm sorry . . . we had not realised the date."

"Date?" Frodo frowned as he tried to recall the date. It was spring . . . March . . . March the twelfth. Realisation brought with it a renewal of pain and he groaned as sharp twinges shot from his neck down into his back and up into his head. Shelob. Was he never to be free of the consequences of that horrifying journey?

The gentle voice from earlier returned and this time he could understand the words. "Come back to us, Frodo. You need not dwell in the shadows of the past. You have the present and you have a new future. You have Calimore."

Letting his eyes drift up and past Bilbo, Frodo found the unruffled features of Elrond. He swallowed in a dry throat. "Will this keep happening?"

Bilbo reached forward to brush his nephew's hair off his brow and dab it with a cool cloth. Elrond settled upon the edge of the bed, watching as Calimore continued to suckle and noting Frodo's cheeks beginning to regain some of their colour.

"In truth, I am not sure but I suspect it will be so for as long as you are tied to Middle Earth. Calimore is helping you for the moment but I suspect that with each passing year your strength to resist these illnesses will be worn away."

Bilbo paused in his soothing and grasped his nephew's hand in his. "I am so sorry, lad. I wish with every waking breath that I had not left that accursed ring to you. This burden should not have been yours." He brushed away a tear.

"It's not your fault, Bilbo dear. You could not know. And you would not have had the strength to carry It there. I did not have the strength myself." Frodo looked down at Calimore once more as the suckling slowed, to find wide blue eyes staring up at him.

"Have you had enough, sweetheart?" Elrond helped him sit up, piling pillows behind him, and Frodo settled his child against his shoulder, rubbing the small back gently. There was a small hiccup and then Calimore settled quietly, his hand reaching out to the jewel that sparkled at Frodo's throat . . . tiny fingers finally grasping it tightly. Frodo looked down fondly but disentangled his child's fingers when he saw the jewel being drawn towards the rosebud mouth.

"Are you still hungry?" Frodo settled Calimore at his other breast and the tiny mouth opened wide to accept the offered nipple. "Just getting your second wind?" His aches and pains were receding now and Frodo leaned back gratefully into the pillows while Bilbo tucked the blanket more closely about him.

Looking down at the contented face of his child Frodo saw tiny rainbows reflecting onto Calimore's shawl from the sunlight glinting upon Arwen's jewel. He glanced across at Elrond.

"What would happen if I left Middle-earth? Would the illnesses stop?"

"I am not sure. There is much virtue in the Undying Lands. I believe that you will, at the very least, be eased."

"And what of Calimore if we travel there?" Frodo asked, his gaze returning to the small face nestled at his chest. "When I die . . . which will happen even in the Undying Lands for I am not immortal. When I die he will be alone."

Elrond's words fell into the waiting silence. "If you die here he will also be alone. You have said yourself that he could never return to the Shire. His home will be among elves . . . whether here or in the West. But I fear that he will be alone much sooner if you elect to remain here."

"I would be making a huge decision about his life. If I take him West he will be losing the very opportunity that I sought . . . family," Frodo pointed out.

Bilbo's voice was sad but firm. "It's an opportunity he still would not have, even if you stay. The Shire would not be open to him, nor Bree. We hobbits are a close lot, and we don't take to strangers. You know that, lad. And I have to agree with Elrond. It seems to me that he will have family for much longer in the West than he would have if you stayed here."

Calimore let go, sated, and Frodo lifted him onto his shoulder again, stroking his back. The small head nestled into the crook of Frodo's neck and shoulder, minute fingers entwining in the silver chain holding Arwen's gift and Frodo noticed a tiny smile tugging at Elrond lips.

"What is it?" he asked.

The elf kept his eyes upon the tiny babe. "That jewel once belonged to my wife and when Arwen was little older than Calimore she used to play with the chain, just like that."

"You miss her . . . Arwen. Will you be travelling west soon or will you stay to watch over them?"

Elrond's eyes met his. "I had made no definite decision and when I learned of Calimore I decided to wait for at least as long as you needed me."

"If I travel west, will you go with me? Or will you wait so that you can be with Arwen," Frodo asked timidly, aware that the conversation must be paining the father and suddenly realising just how deeply that pain ran, now that he was a father himself.

"I had looked upon her choice as a great loss. But tending you these past months has reminded me that some things are worth sacrifices. She has gained much in Aragorn's love. Arwen does not need me to watch over her any more, for she has another to do that now. I have done all that I can to keep her safe and happy and I am grateful for every moment of her life that I have been privileged to share."

Frodo could sense Calimore drifting back to sleep and brought him down gently to settle in his arms. The pale pink mouth opened in a wide yawn even as bright blue eyes closed.

"I suppose that is what being a parent is about. Protecting and guiding until your child is ready to take his own path," Frodo murmured, watching long dark lashes come to rest on fine ivory skin.

"It is indeed, lad," Bilbo replied and Frodo glanced across at him, sensing the empathy in his voice. Bilbo had never had children but he had taken his nephew in and cared for him as though he was his own. Frodo remembered gratefully all those times when Bilbo had soothed his hurts . . . and the times when he had stood aside and allowed his nephew to test the waters of adulthood, so that by the time he came of age Frodo was quite capable of making his own way in life.

"I don't think I ever thanked you properly, Bilbo. You were a father to me."

"There's no need for thanks, Frodo lad. You'll find out soon enough that the thanks come every day in the little things that Calimore does. I am sure Elrond will agree with me on that. You thanked me when you wrote your first Quenyan letter or sat back, contented after a good meal, or simply shared with me the doings of your day. I needed no more thanks than that."

Elrond nodded agreement. "A child needs a parent. Someone who will accept and love him despite anything else that is going on in the world. Someone who knows when to hug him tight and when to simply walk behind in case he stumbles. If you need to travel to the West soon I am ready to accompany you, Frodo. I have no worries about Arwen and my other children. The decision to stay or go is yours."

"And I'll go with you too, lad. I'm not going to miss one moment of this child's growing up," Bilbo added.

Frodo's gaze returned to his child. Until now this journey had been about Frodo's need for family. Now the journey was also about Calimore's need. Elrond was willing to raise him if he had to, but Frodo knew all too intimately what it was like to lose parents.

"I would like to travel to the West with my child . . . as soon as it can be arranged. He needs me as much as I need him. We are each other's family and I want to be there for him for as long as I can."

TBC