A Hero Lost
By: Estella
I have gotten this up almost when I said I would, for once. Updates will be more frequent now that I have more free time and the holidays are coming up!
Thanks for all the great reviews; I'm glad you're enjoying my story!
Disclaimer: Same.
~*News of Death*~
"I'm sorry I brought this upon you, my boy... I'm sorry that you must carry this burden... I'm sorry for everything!"
~*Rivendell, April 24, 3019*~
Galloping hooves echoed from outside the windows, and suddenly came to a halt. There was a jumble of elvish voices mixed with the voice of a messenger, who, from his accent, sounded Gondorian. All voices sounded worried and somewhat sad, but the urgency was most clear. With a rush of their elven cloaks, they were inside.
Bilbo stared out his window contemplating what he had just seen. It was not often that messengers rushed into Rivendell, unless there was urgent news of some kind, good or evil. It seemed ill; the voices had sounded sad, especially the man. He had listened intently, but he had only been able to make out one word: periannath. Perhaps they were talking about Frodo. For months, he had been waiting anxiously and nervously for some kind of news.
More footsteps were heard, and Elrond rushed past the door without even a glance at Bilbo. He was in a rush, Bilbo squinted at his expression; he looked worried. What was going on!? Bilbo wondered, though he tried to convince himself that it was just his mind.
Slowly he put down his book he was trying to work on; ever since Frodo left he was never able to get anything done. Grasping his stick, he stood up, remembering his age again as he hobbled out of the room.
The hallways near Bilbo's room were usually almost empty, but now they held about them a strange silence, and not even the buzz of elves talking in adjacent halls could be heard.
As he hobbled farther down the hall, it only seemed more eerie. The usual bustle of elves was gone, and the doors to the council chamber were locked, as if they were holding a secret council without.
The thought that he dared not think over those past months was finally admitted, what if Frodo had died on the quest? He searched and tried to find facts to deny that it could be true, but none were to be found. Everything seemed to point to that that he was dead…the messenger, who looked as if he was from Gondor, Elrond not even glancing at him, the word periannath, and the grim expression in the elves' voices.
But no, he must not jump to conclusions; perhaps it was someone else. Then why was he not invited to the council? If another member of the fellowship died, surely he would be invited to discuss it.
The hours passed, and Bilbo's worry never lessened. He paced about his room, and then sat down, staring outside where hours earlier he had seen the messenger ride up. Still no sound was to be heard from the hallway.
Day faded into night; there was still nothing. He had to find out something, anything, he could not stand waiting and worrying. He hobbled down the hallway, just as the door to the council chamber opened. Elves emptied out, all with similar grim expressions on their faces. They muttered in elvish, in hushed voices, hardly taking notice of him. Elrond walked past, and for the second time in the day, did not even look over at him, but continued on to his chamber accompanied by another elf.
Silently he followed them, but they took no notice. Into Elrond's library they went, closing and bolting the door in Bilbo's face, but he remained and tried to catch parts of their conversation. In hushed voices, they spoke in the high elven tongue, and though he knew the language, Bilbo could understand little of what they were saying. They mentioned something about the Ring, and the crowning of a King, but nothing was to be heard of Frodo, though they did mention the name of Orodruin.
"I don't know how we shall tell him this," Elrond spoke, staring at his advisor.
"But he must, know, and soon."
"Yes, yes…but I fear that he will think it his fault…"
"You will tell him tomorrow, as soon as he awakes." The advisor said, ignoring Elrond's comment.
"Yes, yes. Though even I still cannot come to terms with this news."
The door opened, almost knocking Bilbo from his crouched position onto the floor. He knew nothing more than he had; there was some kind of news, from Gondor he supposed, by the voice and attire of the rider. The elf walked past, not noticing him. Scrambling up from the floor, leaning on his stick, he hobbled after the elf, who turned and looked at him.
"You will know soon enough, little one," he said without waiting for Bilbo to speak, and then he continued down the hall.
For Bilbo, the night seemed endless; he could not sleep, his mind clouded with worry. Again and again, he pieced together all that he knew, and every time came up with the same conclusion, and was unable to disprove it. All that he had heard played over in his mind…he would find out soon enough.
And it was soon enough, or maybe too soon when he finally heard the news. The sun dawned bright over Rivendell, and Bilbo had finally dozed off in his chair, though Elrond was still awake, pacing across the floor of his study. How was he expected to say this? He could not go up to Bilbo, and just blurt it out. The hobbit had endured enough in his life, and now the loss of his "nephew". He stared up at the sun, which had risen hours ago…he knew it was time.
Footsteps echoed from the hallway outside Bilbo's room, awakening him. The door creaked open, and Elrond entered, finally taking notice of Bilbo, who yawned and opened his eyes.
Staring down at Bilbo with a grim expression, Elrond contemplated on how to begin…the whole night he had spent worrying, but nothing had he accomplished. He stuttered trying to begin.
"What is the news?" Bilbo cried out, he could not stand this any more.
"A messenger has come from Gondor," Elrond replied, sounding unsure of himself; he wanted to say no more.
"With what news? Any news of the Fellowship…of Frodo?"
"The Ring has been destroyed." Bilbo flinched, but he needed to know more, he was growing even more impatient and restless by the second.
"What of Frodo? How is Frodo?"
"Frodo….Frodo has died," Elrond finally said. Bilbo only stared up at him in disbelief, waiting for him to confirm his words.
"Frodo is dead."
No tears could come from Bilbo; he stared in shock. Even though he had thought about it all night it still did not seem like it was true. His "nephew" could not be dead…he was still in the Shire, enjoying life. Or he would turn the corner, and there he would be, running up to him. Dead! Why, Frodo could never be dead!
But it was true. In Gondor, they still mourned. In Rohan, and in the Lothlórien, they mourned. And now in the great elven fortress of Imladris, they mourned.
As Bilbo sat trying not to let tears fall from his eyes, it finally struck him…Frodo had died. The last time he had ever seen him, and the last time that he would ever see him, flooded back to his mind. He would never again see his poor lad cheerful, and celebrating, as he did for the last time at his 111th birthday party.
All the mistakes that he thought he had made…now adopting Frodo seemed like a mistake…in fact his whole life seemed a mistake. He had found the Ring, he had given it to Frodo; his actions had lead to the death of his "nephew". Never was Frodo to see him again, never was Frodo to experience some of life's joys.
As Elrond stared blankly at Bilbo, he thought of what little he had known of the hobbit. From Bilbo he had heard many stories and tales, but he had seen Frodo little. Only at the council when Frodo had volunteered to take the Ring. And then he saw him as he left Rivendell, for the last time. Frodo had stared around at the walls and pathways, as if this time would be his very last in the fortress…and it was.
"My dear boy, my dear boy," Bilbo muttered through the sobs. If only everything had turned out as he wished "And they all lived happily to the end of their days." But it was not so. His boy was dead. He remembered what Frodo had said to him when they met in Rivendell, "My own adventure has turned out to be quite different. I'm not like you, Bilbo." Yes it was different…it had ended it loss instead of victory.
"I'm sorry, my boy," Bilbo cried, "Why…why did it have to be you, my dear boy."
"We do not know why these things happen," said Elrond, placing his hand on Bilbo's shoulder, "Even the wisest cannot tell."
~* To Be Continued *~
A/N Thanks again for reading! I hope you enjoyed it…and please review! The next chapter should be up about the same time it took me with this one.