Title: Legacy

Author: Trust No One

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Frodo has a most unusual encounter that will ultimately alter the path of his life. Two Part, Pre-Quest

Disclaimer: Characters and places belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. No copyright infringement is intended by the use thereof.

A/N: Many thanks to my beta for her insight and help!

Part II

Frodo backed away instinctively, knocking the other chair aside. His breath hitched and he squeezed his eyes and fists shut, chanting out loud, 'This cannot be happening! This cannot be happening!'

He opened his eyes again, not really expecting to see the stranger gone, but he cowered nevertheless when he realized that he had not been able to wish the vision away: he was facing a slightly slimmer and paler mirror image of himself.

'Are you a ghost?' Frodo heard the question but he couldn't be entirely sure that he had uttered the words.

But it cannot be, his conscious mind told him. It cannot be because, well, you're not dead, for one thing.

And for another, his look-alike seemed all too solid, in spite of a faint glow about him that seemed to issue from inside, seeping out of his skin, an otherworldly, cold radiance. Frodo reasoned that had never seen a ghost before, so he could not be sure how one looked. Yet how can a living being and its own ghost share the same space?

'Is this a dream?' Frodo asked hopefully and for the first time, his replica acknowledged his presence, although his gaze remained fixed on the fire, studying the flames with rapt concentration.

'If it makes you feel better, let's say it is,' he said in an oddly cadenced tone, a voice that Frodo barely recognized.

It didn't make Frodo feel any better and he was about to say it. But sensing no immediate danger, Frodo realized that his curiosity had defeated both reason and fear, or that maybe his senses had become too numbed to function properly.

Slowly, without his eyes leaving the other, Frodo felt around for the tumbled chair and when he found it, he turned it over and sat down, albeit at a considerable distance from the fire and his unlikely ghost. He felt reluctant to even study the other one openly, for fear of what he might discover. Whatever fear he still harboured, Frodo realized, it was not at any action that this apparition might take, but rather at the premonition it stirred.

'Why are you here?' Frodo asked slowly, trying to silence the inner voices that pressed him to demand answers, now.

'To warn you,' the other said quietly and Frodo wasn't sure what was more disconcerting: the other's deliberate staring into the fire or the cryptic words that seemed to be spoken more as an afterthought than a forewarning.

'Warn me about what?' Frodo cursed himself for interrupting, but the words had burst out of him before he had a chance to stifle them.

'Please, tell me,' he persisted, silently pleading with whomever would listen for this to be a dream and whatever this... counterpart of himself was going to say - for he was sure it was going to be something terrible - would turn out to be nothing but a nightmare. A nightmare which, given the alternative, he would welcome.

The Other closed his eyes slowly and re-opened them after a long moment, as if what he was about to say required a lot of effort. His head turned and for the first time, Frodo had almost full view of the face, the fire casting black shadows on the hollows of the cheeks, which seemed all too gaunt and sunken.

It was an image of himself, without a doubt. Yet there was something about the features: they were too sharp, too lacking in hobbity roundness and yet something else outside what was obvious to the naked eye. The face did not seem aged by years, but it looked ancient beyond mortal knowledge. Ivory skin reflected sallow in the soft firelight and while Frodo had always been fairer-shinned than most hobbits, his cheeks were rosy and healthy. Not so with the other one. The very clear, unblinking eyes were his own, if a little more transparent, and they held intense weight and a trace of something far more painful than the mere remembrance of loss. Haunted it was that face, Frodo realized, and his heart twisted painfully. What could possibly have happened to make him look so wasted, so... removed from his former self?

'What are you?' he found himself re-formulating his earlier question, chilled to the bone in spite of his proximity to the fire. The sense of premonition was beginning to build again and for the first time, the numbness gave way to a dangerously roiling stomach.

'I am a memory of you,' the shade replied evenly, his solemn gaze still locked onto Frodo's, 'or, if you like, you are a memory of me.'

'But where do you come from?' Frodo persisted, shutting out the part of himself that warned him against learning the answer.

'I do not dwell in Middle-Earth anymore,' the shade said in a detached tone, 'and because of that I was permitted to appear to you.'

Frodo swallowed uneasily.

'Are you...? I mean, am I...'

'Dead?' the other almost laughed, but only a harsh, broken sound rang out. 'There were times when I certainly wondered whether life was a gift. But no, I am not dead.'

Well, Frodo thought bitterly, you don't look alive either.

But before he had a chance to open his mouth and ask for more enlightenment, the shade put up his hand in a gesture demanding silence.

'Hear me out. There isn't much time. What I've come to tell you is that your decision to marry is ill-fated.'

'What?'

How could the other possibly know about his plans? Frodo had made up his mind only minutes ago, even if the decision had been coming for a while. And what was so doomed about his decision? Would Pearl refuse his proposal? Would they be unhappy in their marriage? Judging by the appearance of his 'memory', which looked like something had been eating away at him for the longest time, it certainly seemed a lot worse than mere unhappiness. Would he lose her?

'Sadly,' the shade spoke almost apologetically, 'I am forbidden from giving you too many explanations, and it may seem strange to you if I tell you that it is the only way I can protect you. You will recognize it when the time comes, but not now.'

'You can't tell me that and not explain,' Frodo struggled to keep his voice calm in spite of the dread that had settled in his bones. 'You come here claiming to be my future, telling me that marriage is the worst thing I can do, yet you cannot tell me why or how? Who is not allowing you to tell me too much and most importantly, why?'

The other Frodo's jaw tightened, as if he was pondering the least hurtful answer, but when he spoke, it was not the answer that Frodo was waiting for.

'You are meant to do something in the future. Something important. And you may not want those you love to suffer because of it.'

'Suffer? Why? What am I meant to do? You've told me that you're not dead, so you must have survived whatever it is that you're talking about...Please, I need to understand,' Frodo heard the pleading edge in his own voice and when the other kept silent, he continued, as if trying to reason with himself aloud. 'So, if I were married, I would have to forsake an adventure? So what? Maybe I am not meant to be a hero like Bilbo and lead his adventurous life precisely because I choose to settle down. I would have liked to step in his footsteps, years ago, but now I'm certain that's not what I want from life.'

'It's funny, isn't it, how quickly we realize what we wanted all along when faced with the option of losing it?' the shade said dispassionately and to Frodo it seemed that if the words had been spoken sarcastically, they would have had less effect.

'This is madness,' Frodo said heatedly, 'you are talking in riddles and I'm not sure I want to hear anymore of it. You tell me to reconsider my whole life yet I am not supposed to question why. Well, I won't make it easy for you. I will have an answer! Or else you can go back to wherever you came from!'

Frodo regretted his outburst immediately, half expecting the image in front of him to dissolve and take with it such pitiful answers as it could give. But this was his life they were talking about and he wasn't willing to give up and accept defeat so easily or so soon.

'Listen to me,' the shade said, completely ignoring Frodo's harsh words, 'you will be faced with a choice. Much depends upon what you will decide, and as it stands now, you may choose either way. But if there were someone waiting for you here, ties too strong to be broken, you might not be willing to take the path less trodden.'

'But what better motivation to choose the path less trodden than protecting the ones I love?' Frodo protested.

'You think that now, but in a few years, after you've tasted what it is to have the love of a family of your own, you might not want to risk leaving them in uncertain or even dangerous times and setting off into the wide world.'

'You made that clear enough,' Frodo said bitterly, 'but tell me this: how can you be certain of what I will choose?'

In his heart, Frodo felt a surge of rebellion against this cruel destiny that seemed to be pre-ordained for him.

'You mean to tell me that whatever this adventure is, it will change me, for the worse, for the rest of my life, if your appearance is anything to judge by. You lead me to understand, that there are times when you would have preferred to die rather than live like this. And you believe that in spite of all this, I will still make the same choice?'

'I cannot be sure, of course, but you forget, I know your heart and I know your thoughts. They were both my own once...'

Suddenly, Frodo felt inexplicable, cold fury seep into his bones. He felt a compulsion to be aggressive, if only to provoke this apparition, or to banish it even – anything - if only to bring forth a reaction other than the ostensible apathy that his double displayed.

'I will not have my life path laid out for me by... you!' he spat. 'Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?'

In the firelight, Frodo's angered eyes flickered darkly and he cast aside reason and fear alike.

'What if the choice I make is not to believe you? After all, this could all be a deceitful dream.'

'You may choose whatever you want,' the other delivered the answer in a low, ominous tone, but yet again no muscle moved on his face. And it occurred to Frodo that his counterpart had actually expected this reaction. As if anger or even denial was the most natural part of accepting his destiny. 'I am not your enemy. I just want to protect you, because you have no idea what you are facing and because I am not permitted to tell you-..'

'Then give me an idea!' Frodo cried in exasperation.

'I cannot,' the shade sighed and Frodo couldn't be sure if there was a hint of helplessness in the other's voice. It seemed so distant and removed from earthly reaction. 'Your life path is your own and I cannot rob you of your choices.'

'But you have been robbed of choice, haven't you?' Frodo grated. He leaned closer to the other with a defiant look in his eyes, drinking in the ruined vision that was his future. 'Haven't you?'

He studied the shade's eyes, two crystal clear but vacant pools and instantly, Frodo knew that he had hit a sore spot. Yet at the same time, he understood that there would be no reassurance offered when he felt the other's gaze burn through him and his defiance dissolved.

'No. In the end, the choice was still mine.'

The shade paused briefly, a flicker of remembrance reviving the still eyes for an instant, as the memory of a youthful folly might do to an old man.

'I am not permitted to tell you what the future holds. But I can tell you this: if you knew that something would happen that would force you to leave your family and homeland behind, to fight a battle that you couldn't possibly win, against an evil that you couldn't imagine exists, would you still think about binding Pearl to you? Would you still risk leaving Pearl or even your children behind, to go off and maybe never return? Or worse, to return to them and never be the same again?'

Rigid with shock, Frodo stared at the vision in front of him. Was this a glimpse of what he would have to go through in future? This adventure that had brought his double to the place where he was now? What was there so evil that it could render him so cataclysmically changed? And why would a hobbit, of all races, be chosen to fight it? He was by far not ignorant of the world outside the Shire and he had entertained the idea of adventure, but the words spoken by his alter ego raked streaks of doubt and dread in his heart. Frodo's only reaction was mute disbelief

'Would you not want to protect Pearl at all costs?' the shade persisted.

'Yes, of course I would,' Frodo managed to babble, 'but-'

'Then protect her you must,' the other said gently, 'in the only way you can.'

Frodo lowered his eyes. Grief, and rage, and helplessness, such as he had only known when his parents had died and when Bilbo had left, were beginning to simmer in his heart. In fact, Frodo realized, those feelings had never really left him, and their power over his fragile, often-wounded soul was waxing yet again, ready to devour as ever.

Finally, Frodo lifted his gaze to meet the other's eyes. He saw compassion and, even more painful for him, he saw resignation.

'You have led me to believe that I have a chance to survive this,' Frodo said, forcing himself to speak calmly and elaborate carefully on his thoughts. 'Why is it then that would stop me from resuming my relationship with Pearl?'

The other did not reply immediately but shook his head, smiling sadly and it was the finality of that simple gesture that unnerved Frodo more than anything that had been said that evening. No other words needed to be spoken for Frodo to understand.

'It has to be a clean cut. For her sake, as well as yours...'

'How did you come to accept it?' Frodo asked, his anger dispersed into a numbing, yet not entirely unwelcome sensation, to replace the rising nausea, 'Having to always give up the ones you love?'

'What you have to bear will be yours to bear alone,' the other said, 'And when the time comes, you will understand that it was better that way.'

'That doesn't quite answer my question,' Frodo countered.

'If you must know, I never did come to terms with it,' the shade whispered finally and it seemed like he was not addressing Frodo at all, but rather re-living the past. 'For a little while, it helped to think that what happened was meant to be. But in the end, when I lay down at night, it was just an empty bed and me. And my deeds, however they might have been, gave me none of the expected comfort.'

'Why me?' Frodo said and by the swiftness of the shade's reply, he knew that it was a question that he had expected.

'I asked myself the same question, many times, but if you really want to know, it doesn't matter. It won't make it any easier or any harder to bear. You do what you have to do and whether you question it or not, it will still have to be done in the end. After a while, the reasons cease to matter.'

'I cannot imagine that: not wanting to know the reasons why,' Frodo said softly. His ever inquisitive mind could not grasp the concept of not questioning something so important. To be stripped of the ability to question and study, or to be reduced to a state where questions and answers no longer mattered was more than crippling. It was an abomination and indeed a fate worse than death.

'You will encounter many possible reasons along the way, each more believable than the last. And it will be these reasons that will drive you to make your choices. But maybe having made this one choice now will make the one to come easier.'

'You mean, having been forced into making a decision that I resent,' Frodo laughed bitterly. The ambiguous answers he was getting did nothing more than push him further into the labyrinth of questions.

'This sounds like...' he paused, looking for the appropriate words, 'like you are setting me up to have as little to lose as possible in the face of adversity.'

'It is not my intention to hurt you, but it is better to be prepared, even if you are not so enlightened right now,' the other said quietly and his voice acquired a rueful edge.

'Is this the only way then?' Frodo asked, knowing the answer even before it was delivered.

The other nodded gravely.

'Pearl will never understand,' Frodo whispered, more to himself than anyone else.

'No, she will not,' the shade agreed. He fell silent, letting the words and their meaning sink in. It was Frodo who ruptured the silence eventually.

'I hate being alone,' he said with sudden fervour, staring angrily into the fire as if the very origin of his woes lay amidst the flames. 'I never thought I'd ever say this, but I've come to hate it.'

In one fluid movement, the shade shifted position slightly, and the rustle of fabric brought Frodo back to himself. He watched the other stretch his legs as if preparing for a long walk, but his eyes were attracted to the shade's hands. Aghast, Frodo stared at the right hand that had been hidden from view before, at the stump of the missing third finger. It looked like it had been cleanly severed by a blade. The shade perceived Frodo's dismay, because he lifted his hand slowly and smiled easily, in stark contrast with the shocking revelation of his words.

'This was the smallest price I had to pay.'

In spite of his eyes being glued to the maimed hand, Frodo could not help but notice that the shade's texture was becoming more and more transparent. He searched the other's eyes and understood: their time had come to an end and the vision would soon melt away completely.

'Please,' Frodo cried breathlessly, 'one more thing!'

There was barely enough clarity left to the shade now. It was fading so quickly that he would dissolve any moment, but Frodo saw him nodding his assent.

'Knowing what you do now, would you take it all back if it were possible?'

A quivering smile and a flash of white teeth was all Frodo could discern before the shade dispersed before his very eyes. But he heard the murmur that came from all around him, as if the phantom had now become enmeshed in Frodo's own being.

'No, I would not.'

A crashing noise caused Frodo's eyes to snap open and instinctively, he jumped to his feet and looked around in a panic. It took a few moments for him to realize that the noise had been caused by him knocking the book to the floor.

Confused, Frodo glanced about, only to see that he had fallen asleep in his chair, but that the fire had almost gone out and it was becoming dreadfully cold. The blizzard continued unabated outside and Frodo stood up shakily, rubbing his temples with his fingers, willing his violently throbbing head to clear.

Jumbled thoughts and fragments of a strange conversation flooded his confused brain, but he could not remember what or with whom he had spoken. I must have dreamed, Frodo concluded.

But the lingering feeling did not leave. It seemed that there was something terribly important that he had to remember, as if the fate of the whole world depended on it, but no matter how much he strained his memory, he could not build any consistent recollection. A distant yet terrible foreboding swept over him. He stood in the middle of the room for a long time, unable to move, knowing beyond a doubt that there was something that he needed to do, yet he could not remember what it was. Almost as if something were calling him, drowning out the voices of reason in his head. Something that was so crucial that everything else he had planned to do in his life paled into insignificance.

Spring, 3018

Alone, Frodo sat in his bedroom, pondering on the answer he had been seeking for so many years. The answer to a question he had not been able to remember, but which had shaped his destiny regardless.

Earlier that morning, Frodo had had a conversation with Gandalf and he remembered every word of it. How his whole world had been turned upside down in a matter of minutes. How by a twist of fate, an object of ancient, most powerful evil, had turned out to have been in his possession all along: the One Ring.

He had made a decision that day, to take the Ring and leave the Shire, but he feared that before long, more terrible choices would stand before him. And Frodo's thoughts went back to Pearl, so many years ago, to the night when he had resolved to make her his wife and to the fragments of that terrifying dream that he still could not entirely recall. To the trip to Tuckborough that he never took that spring, or the bride that Pearl never was for him. To the happy laughter of their children that now could never be. But in spite of the anguish that gathered in his heart, he could not help but feel a little grateful. Pearl had another life now. But at times, even though he tried to avoid her on his now infrequent visits to Tuckborough, she managed to catch his eye, somewhere in a hallway or across the dinner table. And there was always an unspoken question there, mixed with confusion and the bittersweet memory of what they had shared long ago. Those were the moments when Frodo knew that Pearl had not understood why he had chosen to drop out of her life so quietly and without explanation.

'I'm sorry,' he heard himself whisper to the empty room. But there was no one there except the echo of his own voice. He was alone and that was the only certainty.

Yet for a fleeting second, Frodo thought he saw the outline of a pale form sitting by the fire in the opposite chair, glowing with an inner light that at once seemed familiar and welcome. And although Frodo could not discern the other's features, he felt the other smiling and took great comfort in his presence.

The End