A/N: Hey, everyone! I'll always be very grateful for your reviews and I'm happy you enjoyed this story just as much as the others. And though I enjoyed writing this series, I won't be writing any more fan fiction for a while. Special thanks to Sami (Katana-babe) for your wonderful support and friendship! Well, this is the end of the "Fragile Choices" series and I now present to you the final chapter!
Disclaimer: Don't own Tokien's characters or quotes from his book. I only own Tansy, Calla and Rory Hortlebower
Warning: Major angst and mild violence.
"I know you don't want me to go but I must."
"Go where?"
"Tansy," he retorted sternly. His voice so frigid that it seemed to permeate through flesh and bone, and then deeper until coldness reached the dark corners of her soul. "I must go!"
She stumbled out of his way but followed close behind him as he stormed toward the front door.
"Frodo?" she said, raising her voice and her fears along with it. "Please, tell me where you're going!"
He ignored her, yanked the door open and scurried down the steps.
"Frodo!"
Chapter Seven: Discord and Decision
The cart thundered down the road through Bree. While driving his cart, Frodo had been aware of startled big folk and hobbits, though at the moment, he took no interest in what they thought of the anger and determination on his face. All that mattered to him was reaching Staddle.
Rory intended on pouring himself some tea when he heard the sound of a pony galloping up the lane.
"Whoever it is," he thought, "is most certainly in a hurry."
Rory left the kitchen, and as his hobbit ears tuned into the sound of the cart slowing down near his home, his legs hastened toward the window. He stood on the side and peeked out. Rory's eyes grew a tad larger at the sight of Frodo leaping down from the cart.
Frodo? What is he doing here, unless...is it possible?
Rory had no idea of what to expect of Frodo's unexpected visit and grabbed his cane off the hook of the coat stand.
Frodo headed toward number 1, the yellow door of Rory's hobbit hole. He kept his eyes firmly on the hole as he took a slow, angry stride up the steps. When Frodo reached the door, he knocked softly, pretending his visit had been a kind one. The circle creaked open and there stood Rory, his hand bearing down on the cane.
"Hello, Frodo," he said rather surprised. "Is everything all right?"
Frodo pushed a smile onto his lips. "Why would you think something is wrong?"
"I don't want you to think I'm not polite. You're welcome in my home. It's just—well—if I had known of your visit, I would had more than just tea to offer you."
"It's quite all right, Rory."
"Come in!" said Rory, trying his best to sound cheerful and delighted to see Frodo.
Frodo breezed past him and for a second, Rory thought he sensed something foreboding in the air around them. After closing the door and joining Frodo in the parlor, he grew very uneasy at the suspicious way Frodo eyed his leg and the cane.
Rory chose to ignore it for the moment, not wanting Frodo to see he was indeed nervous. Mr. Hortlebower gestured his hand toward one of the chairs near the fireplace. "Please, sit."
"Thank you," said Frodo and sat down in the chair.
Rory sat in the other and rested his cane on the side of the chair. "There must be some reason you're here,"
Frodo stared at the slightly stout hobbit, studying his butterscotch curls, his green eyes beneath thick brows, but not too thick that would make him appear awkward, and the dimples easily seen when he smiled. He could see why any lass would find him attractive along with him being a real estate broker. He just wished one of those lasses weren't his own wife.
"Well," Frodo began, "I merely wanted to say how much we enjoyed your visit with us, though we would have preferred if the circumstances were different. Nonetheless, it was a pleasure having you at Bag End."
Rory gave him a sheepish grin. "Thank you, Frodo."
He doesn't know. Tansy will never tell him. She's too frightened, and she'll know what would happen if she did.
"We can have tea if you want, I have a few seed cakes left over from breakfast," said Rory, standing halfway from the chair.
"Tea will be fine. Rory? Before you go, can I see the cane?"
"Yes," Rory answered and returned to his seat, still baffled about Frodo's visit he thought rather strange. He took the cane from beside the chair and handed it to Frodo.
Frodo entwined his four fingers around it, examining it from top to bottom.
"It's a shame, really."
"What is?"
"About your leg."
Rory chuckled nervously. "Frodo, you talk like my leg hasn't healed. It's much better than it was. I still walk with a limp but,"
"Stop it!" Frodo suddenly blurted.
"Stop—what?"
"Your nonsense!" Frodo fired back and leaned forward in the chair. "You never had a broken leg," he asserted, glaring at the real estate broker. "Tansy told me everything. Everything!" He stopped, noticing Rory's look of surprise, guilt, shame and regret, but that didn't keep Frodo from going on. "Having us believe you had broken your leg so you can stay at Bag End. And then you tricked me into thinking I put the knife under my pillow, knowing my past, you were certain I would go mad. Those footsteps I heard outside that night, it was you. You lured me to the lane and that's when you struck me. I awoke and thought I was lost in the woods but I wasn't there. I must have been unconscious, not far from here and yet I heard a voice—your voice, whispering in my ear, uttering terrible things."
Slowly, Rory shook his head. "Frodo--,"
Frodo ignored him and rambled on angrily. "You told me Tansy and Calla had died in a fire, trying to confuse me. But...you were talking about yourself. You tried to save your wife and daughter in that fire. That's what happened to them, Rory, isn't it?"
"No!" Rory shouted. Anger burned across his face as he leaned closer to Frodo. "No," he repeated through clenched teeth.
"I'm right," Frodo stated boldly and bravely he went on. "It probably happened when you lived in Nobottle and then you moved on to Staddle. But what you've done, the deceit, hoping I would go mad so you can be with Tansy...that's not the worst of it. You took advantage of her. She thought it was I who lay next to her, kissing her...holding her! That's why you wanted me out of the room that night."
"Frodo, listen to yourself, what you're saying...it isn't natural."
Frodo sprang from the chair. His eyes wide, like that of someone who was indeed mad, but despite all that had happened to him during the Quest, he managed to hold on to his hobbit sense. "You know what I'm saying is the truth. You cannot go on with your deceit any longer."
Rory grasped the armrests and pushed himself up from the chair. He stood on his hairy feet and without limping, took a few steps toward Frodo. "You're right, I can't go on with what I've been doing."
Frodo dropped the cane onto the floor. He trembled. His anger, seething and so immense it frightened him. And if he didn't leave, he was afraid of what he might do. Frodo turned away from the real estate broker. Before taking the next step, he could see in the corner of his eye, Rory bending down and slowly reaching for the cane. And when it looked like Rory intended on whacking him with the cane, Frodo spun around, grabbing Rory's arm in mid-swing.
Tansy paced around the living room, biting her bottom lip and shaking. She halted when Rosie rushed over to her.
"Tansy? What's wrong?"
"Frodo, he's gone."
"Gone where?"
"I--," Tansy hesitated and when it dawned on her about where he could have hurried off to, her quivering lips fell. "Oh no, no!"
At that moment, Sam returned with Calla and Elanor. Both girls dashed into the parlor and headed down the hall to their room.
"Sam!" said a horrified Tansy.
Fear in her voice sent shivers through him and raised the many hairs on his legs. "Tansy, what--,"
"It's Frodo!" she yelled desperately. "He left about an hour ago and I have a feeling where he is."
"Where?"
"Staddle, that's where he ran off to. He was very angry went he left. Oh, Sam, I'm afraid they may hurt each other!"
"Don't worry," said Sam with assurance and determination. "I'm going after him."
"Sam," said Rosie who now was just as frightened as Tansy. "You shouldn't go alone!"
"I have to go alone. There's no time. Mr. Frodo may be in trouble."
Outside the hole, Tansy and Rosie watched fearfully while Sam made sure the cart was good to go. When he saw that it was, he threw his arms around Rosie, embracing her snuggly against him. He then gave Tansy a warm embrace. After breaking away from the hug, he stared at Tansy, assuring her he would bring Mr. Frodo back safely, at the same time, unable to hide the possibility that he could be too late. And when that thought taunted him, Sam swiftly bounded onto the cart, yanked the reigns and off the pony went, galloping away from Bag End.
Frodo wrestled with Rory and tightened his grip on the hand that stubbornly held onto the cane. He knew Rory would have to eventually give in to the pressure of Frodo's hand around his, but to the gentle hobbit's surprise, he was overcome by Rory's strength and thrown across the kitchen. Frodo had no idea what he would hit and then came the impact as he was slammed against the table. Stunned for a second but his senses quickly returned. The warmth and gentleness Rory once conveyed, now hard, cold and marred from anger he smothered for many years. Too long denied...and now he couldn't stop it.
Rory lunged again with the cane.
Frodo's eyes flashed wide and mustered all the strength he had to shove himself off from the table. He tumbled onto the floor and watched as Rory swung the cane and struck the teapot, a cup and saucer...all went crashing against the tiles and broke into numerous porcelain fragments. Tea splattered, leaving dark trails across the floor. And before Rory had the chance to attack Frodo again, he leaped, barged into Rory from behind and tackled him down to the floor. In the process, the cane flung from his hand and dropped a few feet from Rory's side.
"Rory!" Frodo shouted as he straddled him. "Please, stop it!"
Rory ignored Frodo's plea, his fingers struggling and inching their way toward the cane. He had another idea. Suddenly his hand lunged at Frodo's face, digging his fingers into flesh. Frodo screamed, unable to bear the pain any longer, he fell backwards, grasping his face that had been nicked with a few, but deep and bloody scratches.
Pain assaulted him not only on his face but all over, and yet he managed to keep himself alert, watching as Rory attempted to retrieve the cane once again. Though he didn't want his own anger to get the best of him, at the moment Frodo no longer cared. He kicked the cane far out of Rory's reach and straddled the hobbit again. His hands tightly locked themselves around the real estate broker's neck. And as he tightened his grip further, he no longer saw Rory, but also his perilous quest: The Nazgul, Fell Beasts, Orcs, Uruk-hai, Gollum, Mordor, Mount Doom, Sauron, and...the Ring.
Sam's heart raced along with the cart. As he neared the top of the lane, in the short distance, he could see Frodo's cart outside Mr. Hortlebower's home. Though it was late August, humidity lay heavily in the air. Salty trails of sweat trekked down from beneath Sam's golden bangs. He didn't bother to wipe the sweat, concerned at the moment for his master. The gardener slowed the cart to a sudden halt; he hastily jumped off and sped up a few steps that led to the door. With his fist, Sam pounded frantically upon the circle.
"Mr. Frodo!"
He heard a cryptic silence, but it had been broken by something crashing on the floor—a sound that stirred his heart into a frenetic race again.
"Mr. Frodo!" Sam repeated, screaming his name over and over.
When no one answered him, Sam decided on going inside. His fingers grasped the knob. Barging his way in, the gardener hurried into the parlor. Hearing a struggle that reached his ears, he spun in the direction of the struggle and scurried to the kitchen where he saw Frodo strangling Rory on the floor.
"Mr. Frodo!" He screamed again. Horrified, Sam leaped toward Frodo, hooked his arms around the small waist of his master and tried desperately to drag him away from Rory. When it seemed Frodo refused to let go, Sam tugged harder until he tumbled backwards with Frodo along with him.
Frodo swung around, stunned and surprised to see Sam behind him. His eyes wide and blazed with anger. "Why did you stop me?" he breathlessly questioned Sam. "I wanted to kill him. Why did you stop me, Sam!"
"Mr. Frodo," Sam whimpered, "You can't."
"You can't" Those words jarred him back to his hobbit sense along with a recall of what Gandalf told him once about Gollum: "It was pity that stayed his hand. Pity and mercy..."
Frodo stared at Rory who, grasping his neck, choked and gasped for air. The gentle hobbit, when realizing he almost killed Rory, squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face into his cradled hands.
For what seemed like a long while, Frodo and Sam remained on the floor. A few feet away sat Rory, every moment or so, he coughed and rubbed his aching neck.
After Frodo composed himself along with his senses, he winced from his injuries as he stood from the floor. Behind him, Sam also rose onto his feet. Frodo started toward Rory. He then stopped and looked down at Rory whose eyes slowly rolled up to meet his firm gaze.
"I don't ever want to see you at Bag End," said Frodo sternly, "Or near my wife again."
Sam walked up to Frodo. His hand reached out, gently touching his master's shoulder. "Come on, Mr. Frodo. Let's go home."
Frodo gave Sam a rueful look. He then nodded as he left the hole along side his loyal friend.
Tansy and Rosie rushed out from their hole, relieved and ecstatic to see their husbands home safely. Sam embraced Rosie heartily and when they saw Tansy and Frodo, not hugging but only stared at one another, the Gamgees decided it was best to leave them alone.
"Oh, Frodo," said Tansy, "you're face." She extended her hand toward his face to soothe the blood-dried scratches with her fingers. To her surprise, he flinched away from her touch.
No embrace.
No kiss.
Frodo angrily walked away from her, leaving behind a frightened, trembling and teary-eyed Tansy.
During that night, in the Bagginses bedroom, a sorrowful Tansy sat on the bed's edge. She didn't look at Frodo standing in front of her. Shame kept her eyes away from him while he talked.
"Earlier, I thought about this on our way back home. It's best I sleep in another room. Right now, we can't be together. You need time to think about what you've done that led to all of this. I know it's not what you want, but we need to do this. Tansy, you must understand, you held the truth from me. If only you would have been honest, then--," he sighed deeply.
"You're right," Tansy barely spoke, keeping teary eyes on her lap. "But...I'm concerned about Calla. I don't want her to see us sleeping in separate rooms."
"I have to think of something to tell her. I know she won't understand, but this is the way it must be."
"How long should we separate?"
"I don't know. It may be for a long while." Frodo turned away from her and when he hesitated at the door, Tansy momentarily held her breath, hoping he would change his mind, run back to her and hold her in his arms. Instead, he only muttered, "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," she said in a raspy, trembling voice.
The door slowly shut.
Frodo was gone.
Tansy bit hard on her bottom lip, thinking that would keep her from crying. But nothing could stop the bitter tears streaming down her cheeks as she threw herself across the bed.
Days and weeks passed. Autumn arrived and everywhere it went, hobbits felt its chill. And every leaf it touched, it left its mark of gold, crimson and russet. One particular night, Tansy sat on the bench in front of her vanity table. She usually brushed her hair before going to bed. Instead, she stared listlessly at her somber reflection in the mirror.
I am sorry, Frodo. I never meant to hurt you. Oh, Frodo, please...forgive me.
Inside one of the guestrooms, Frodo lay in bed. His head raised slightly on two propped pillows. He longed for sleep but it had eluded him for what seemed like hours. Frodo stared ruefully at wooden beams of the ceiling above.
Tansy, what are you thinking? I want to know...will you be honest? I want to know that I can trust you...because I love you.
At that moment, Rory sat at the kitchen table. It had been a month since the fight with Frodo and how he nearly killed him. As he sat in chilling silence, his face was hard and what happiness he once felt, though far from genuine had left him alone...alone in the emptiness of his hobbit hole. Slowly, he rose from the table and moped into the parlor. He stood there, his eyes surveying everything he had owned, everything he once cherished, and now, it meant nothing to him.
Frodo, Tansy...what have I done?
Holly and Lea...their screams ricocheted off the tunneled walls and echoed around the hole.
That night assaulted him again and again.
His mind had gone back to their home in Nobottle. He quarreled with Holly in the bedroom, unaware of Lea who hated to hear them argue, she panicked and stepped backwards against the dresser. The lantern, already teetering on the edge had been stirred by her impact and plummeted onto the floor. The fire spread so quickly. Everything happened so fast. Rory tried to save his wife and daughter, pleading and yelling for them to come under the blanket that he used as shelter from the flames. They were too frightened. By then, the beams gave way, crashing down on the two people he cherished more than anything. The deafening screams. The searing heat of the fire...
Rory found himself back to the present, screaming, shaking.
And now his screams echoed around the hole, around everything he once cherished. It meant nothing to him without Holly and Lea.
Several more days passed since that night. On a cloudy and chilly afternoon, desperate knocks on the front door had beckoned Sam to hurry and open it. There stood his Gaffer in the doorway.
"Come in!" said Sam and at the same time, he wondered why his dad looked so grave as he stepped inside the parlor.
Frodo also stood beside Sam and noticed it as well. "Is everything all right?" Frodo asked the Gaffer.
"You don't know?"
"Know what?" Sam queried.
"A few days ago, Rory, he—he's dead."
"Dead?" said Frodo.
"His body was found drifting along shallow water of the Brandywine River. Some folk say he must have gone fishing but he never fished there. I've also heard other nonsense about him drowning himself. Now, why would Rory do such a thing as that--,"
The rest of what Sam's Gaffer said had faded beyond Frodo's hearing. At the moment, Sam and his dad seemed far away while the gentle hobbit mused in shock at what he heard.
The next day, Frodo drove his cart out to the Brandywine River. He stood upon the bank and solemnly looked down at the water. He shivered from the brisk wind that sneaked beneath his black velvet cloak, but it wasn't only the chill, he also shivered at the thought of Rory. He believed it was possible he ended his own life. He knew Rory had been tormented because of his past, a chilling mirror of himself. Frodo shivered at the memories of his parents when they drowned in the river, recalling the same gossip about them from the Hobbiton miller, Ted Sandyman... "And I heard she pushed him in and he pulled her in after him..."
A tear snaked down his cheek, and then Frodo swiftly turned away, leaving the river behind him.
Not long before the sun was ready for its slumber, Tansy rested on a chair near the bedroom window. That's where she spent most of her time, knitting the last few rows of the blanket she started back in August. The door slowly opened. Tansy could see it was Frodo but she continued to knit vigorously.
He halted in front of her.
"It's a shame what happened to Rory," Tansy suddenly blurted. "I wish he had never come back to Hobbiton. I wish--," she babbled on frantically while knitting faster. "Why did he come back? He drowned himself because of me, because of me!"
"Tansy, stop it!" Frodo screamed, grabbing her shoulders and yanking her out of the chair. "It's not your fault. I don't want you to blame yourself. Rory was ill. He was ill, Tansy! Now, I want us to move on. I want us to be together again. But I need you to promise me that you will be honest. No more lies. Can you give me your promise?"
Tansy nodded. "Yes, Frodo, I promise!" She said in a choking cry and when he pulled her into a tight embrace, she collapsed against him, sobbing in his arms.
Frodo gently broke away from her embrace to hold her hands. There, they stood near the window. Outside, brittle leaves were blown off the trees, leaving them bare. Winter had come and gone. Spring brought joy back to the Shire and when summer returned, on the twenty-first of June, Frodo and Tansy celebrated their anniversary like they had done each year. This time, with family and friends present, they stood near their favorite oak tree in the woods. It was a small celebration, like a renewal of their vows. Tansy beamed, wearing her favorite pink and white dress with a crown of pink roses nestled upon her head. Frodo looked handsome as always, clad in a burgundy vest, white shirt and black breeches.
They held hands, smiling and gazing lovingly at one another.
While Tansy stared into his beautiful, blue eyes, she remembered the first time she met him at Bag End, when Rosie brought her to visit him and Bilbo.
Frodo recalled how he felt when they met, never expecting to fall in love.
"I love you," he said loud enough for her to hear and everyone around them.
"I love you, too," said Tansy, smiling as joyous tears streamed down her cheeks.
And when they kissed, everyone cheered along with the Gamgees, Merry, Pippin, Diamond and Estella. Oh, wait...don't forget little Calla and Elanor who ran up to the couple with their baskets full to the brim with rose petals. Both girls tossed the petals around them—the petals that were gently carried away by a warm June breeze. Up, up they went above the trees, above Bag End and throughout the beautiful land in Middle-earth known as the Shire.
The End