In Good Hands
He does not suspect anything. He knows nothing of my plans. How I wish I could tell him. And yet, I know that I cannot. He would try to stop me.
Sam would want me to stay here in the Shire with him to the end of our days. Sam does not understand what it is like to live my life. He does not suffer as I do.
He'll never know how much I envy him. I would love to have a compassionate wife and giggling children. I watch Sam cradle his baby daughter Elanor and I feel a dagger of longing stab into my heart. When Sam kisses Rosie after he eats one of her delicious meals, I have to look away so that neither sees the jealousy in my eyes.
Though I would die for a family of my own, I realize that I shall never have what Sam has. No; in exchange for a happy marriage and rambunctious young hobbits, I received a gold ring. The One Ring, as it was. The very ring that destroyed my life.
True, I made many friends while on my journey to Mount Doom. But how many enemies did I also make? How many more beings were killed because of me? Too many to count. I would have been better off refusing the Ring and staying in the Shire.
The fact is though that I took the Ring. I carried it the entire journey, save for the time Sam took it for safekeeping. I was the one who fell under its power. I felt Sauron's grasp upon me. I almost succumbed to his desires.
Not only has the mental pain wearied me. Time and again on that never-ending quest I received some injury to my person. At Weathertop, I was stabbed with a Morgul blade. In Moria, the cave troll would have forced a pike through me, had it not been for my coat of mithril. Shelob stung me with her stinger. Gollum bit off my index finger. These wounds drain me still.
Sam is knocking upon the doorframe of my study with one hand. His daughter is being held in his other arm. "Mister Frodo sir?" he says tentatively. He must be startled by the somber look on my face. "Could you watch Elanor for a few minutes? Rosie's off visiting an ill neighbor and I promised the Gaffer that I'd take him to the Green Dragon today. I'll be back shortly, I promise."
Although I don't feel like playing baby-sitter, I nod. Visibly relieved, Sam hands me the sleeping babe. "She shouldn't fuss too much," he tells me as I accept Elanor. He leaves a few instructions and then hurries out the door to his impatient father's home.
I inspect the young hobbit's plump face. Golden curls frame her features and lashes of the same color lie on rosy cheeks. A button nose rests between two shapely ears. Slow puffs of air come in and out of a small mouth.
My gaze drops to the baby's tiny hands. Each hand has five minuscule fingers. I reach to stroke the palm of one hand with my finger. Elanor instinctively curls her hand around it and stirs in her slumber.
With a little yawn, she wakes up. Sky blue eyes stare up at me, trying to focus on my face. After a moment, Elanor recognizes me and gurgles happily.
"Hello little one," I murmur to her. "How are you this fair day?"
The babe coos and reaches up her short arms to me.
I laugh and toss her up in the air gently. She shrieks with delight. I repeat this game a few more times until Elanor's face grows flushed.
Her mother Rosie does not like when I play this game with her child. "She is too young," she scolds me. She doesn't know it, but Sam plays the same game with his daughter whenever not in the presence of his wife.
I settle the babe down and sit back in my chair. Much as I try not to turn serious, I cannot help but think of leaving again. "You'll watch after him when I leave, won't you?" I ask the child. Blue eyes penetrate into my own almost identical eyes. "He'll be able to join me someday. Until then, please take care of him for me."
Elanor sighs contentedly and I take that as an assent. "Thank you," I whisper to her as she nestles into the crook of my arm. She falls asleep quickly and I too become drowsy.
I will be able to rest peacefully tonight. I no longer have to worry about what will happen to Sam when I leave for the Undying lands. He'll be in good hands.
X X X X X
These are just my reflections on Frodo's inner turmoil. I thought that when he couldn't turn to someone who could talk back, he could certainly turn to a baby. After all, babies do seem rather wise sometimes, don't they? Thanks for reading.