Disclaimer: AU Story. Based on Shirebound's wonderful drabble, "Grace";
much thanks for her permission. The characters and settings continue to
belong to Tolkien. But the plot is mine and I very much hope that you enjoy
it. ^^
Shirebound: *hangs head in shame* I'm sorry, I'll try and look after Frodo better next time, honest. At least he's always got "Reflections of the Past" to snuggle into if all else fails
Aemilia Rose: I hope this doesn't count as too long to leave Frodo missing and suffering ;P Aww, see the pwetty puppy eyes!
Heartofahobbit: Thank you ever so much for your review! I'm glad you're enjoying Frodo's character; he's always fun to mess around with- OK, not the best choice of words but you know what I mean ^^ The description from Fangorn was actually straight from LOTR, so all credit goes to Tolkien, I'm sure he appreciates your lovely comments!
Skye12: *squee-fest* Yay! Welcome back, almighty Skye! Am v jealous that you've seen ROTK 6 times already but I'm willing to let that go if you update "Imprisoned"... Hope you continue to enjoy this story. It's just lovely to hear from you again!
FrodoBaggins87: Hmm, where could our little hobbit be heading? Heh, thanks for the review!
Bookworm2000: 5 times? Auugh, not fair! I got to see it on the last day of the year but not since then...*suffering from withdrawal symptoms* We'll have to get Frodo back somehow, won't we, or you'll probably continue to embarrass poor Sam quite unforgivably ^^ !
~ Chapter Eleven ~
The bushes were illuminated with the light of Gandalf's staff but did not reveal any hidden face or extended hand. And the russet afternoon haze that slanted between the clouds showed even less. Here and there, the small company of wizard and hobbit could hear cries of Frodo's name throughout Ithilien. Every soldier, it seemed, was out hunting for the missing Ringbearer.
"Samwise, you and I shall head east," Gandalf declared, the creases in his face lit by silver sconces amid the trees, "If we are fortunate, we may find Frodo by the mountains. Does that sound right to you?"
"Me, sir?" Sam exclaimed, taken aback.
"Of course! Who knows the mind of our friend better?"
The hobbit paused his chaotic thoughts. Towards the east? Towards what? Why would Frodo go there? Then again, why should he have strayed in any direction?
"East sounds as right as any place," he voiced to Gandalf, who gave a conciliatory nod. The two dived forward, each as fast as the other in their frantic search. There was no knowing what had caused Frodo to run. As sodden leaves writhed under his feet, Sam was brought back to when he had take this same road with Faramir, in similar circumstances. He had never, not in all his days, believed it would come again. That nightmare had awakened a great many doubts in his mind. It had opened up old wounds, if indeed those wounds had ever healed.
Wind fanned out Sam's cloak and made his eyes water. He blinked hurriedly and looked up to Gandalf. The man of Istari had never looked truly old up until then. Oh, of course, his wrinkles and papery skin betrayed a certain age but now...he looked almost cadavorous. There was lingering dread in his deep-set eyes that Sam could only remember in the midst of raining ash and gulping fire.
"Oh why'd you have to run, Frodo?" he whispered through hitching breaths, "Why didn't you say something..."
"Samwise!"
The hobbit jerked to a halt, Gandalf's hand clutching his shoulder. His staff was pointed towards the distant mountauns. Sam waited impatiently, eyes roving the landscape for any sign of what had caught his companion's attention so fully. He thought he heard Gandalf murmur something distantly, as if through the waters of Nen Dîn.
"In fallen towers, one may find a fallen friend."
It took a while for the little gardener to grasp the meaning of it but he had enough sense as any on this quest to realise what it may entail.
"He hasn't...oh, he can't honestly have gone back..."
"If Frodo goes to the ruins of Gorgoroth, it may help him understand that what he seeks can no longer be found. Come, Samwise!"
"But Gandalf," Sam objected, "He said he was glad to have the Ring gone! Strider was right there when he did. He said he was glad to be rid of it!"
"So he may be. But that does not release him from his desire for It. For a long time now, Frodo's being- his very existence- has been encircled by that wheel of fire. By whatever means possible, Frodo knows he must escape."
"So he's escaping us?" Sam cried in alarm.
Gandalf whirled round, eyes betraying thunderous intent.
"He does not do it out of his will! It is not his doing! It is no one's!"
--
"They do not understand," he hissed as another branch slash his cheek. He could hear the blood drumming in his veins. He could feel the breath scraping his lungs. He ran through black woodland that obliterated the sky, all the while muttering and cursing to himself.
"We cannot let them inside!"
Now and then, he would halt in his tracks, his consciences battling to determine his direction.
"Must go on! Must go back to It!"
"No! There is nothing left!"
"Then tell that to those who follow you."
"I must not. They must not find you!"
"They already see me, my love!"
Then his feet would be tugged forward again, the darkness in him always overruling his own anxious protests.
Frodo could not let Sam see what lurked within him. He could not allow his friend to see how bitterly he had been defeated by his task. He did not deserve the love and care he would be shown. But, ah, if he could see It again, lying in It's golden splendour in his hands. Just to see It...to hold It again with his shaking fingers... then perhaps all this madness would die. He might be saved! He might be delivered from nights ridden with visions. The nightmare had shown him the world where Sam was not present. Frodo had witnessed Ithilien as it was now. The Dark Lord had been vanquished. The Ring's reign over the hearts of Men had ended. But there had been no Sam to see it.
Frodo swore he would finish this at last. He would fulfil his longing one last time and he knew above all sense that he would have no more need for the One Ring. Aragorn's voice fell dead at the door of his memories. It was not gone. Not yet. Not until he had seen It and let the age of the accursed thing wither. His hands met the cool stone of the mountain. His feet rested on the sliver-like pathway. Frodo drew himself up and onto the first slope. It would be worth it simply to have this life behind him and have hope restored. Pebbles skittered under his fingers and away down the rapidly increasing fall. No lasting taste of lembas on his tongue. No clogging smoke in his throat. No icy gales nor smell of rotting flesh on the breeze. He would cast his precious away and return to the camp, then Minas Tirith, then to the Shire. Frodo closed his eyes in silent reverie of that name. He would return to green hills, rutted pathways and rounded doors. Perhaps, even, to wave farewell to the last ships as they coasted out into the sea. And all would be righted.
~
I do seem to be focusing on a few characters, don't I? Hope that was bearable!
Shirebound: *hangs head in shame* I'm sorry, I'll try and look after Frodo better next time, honest. At least he's always got "Reflections of the Past" to snuggle into if all else fails
Aemilia Rose: I hope this doesn't count as too long to leave Frodo missing and suffering ;P Aww, see the pwetty puppy eyes!
Heartofahobbit: Thank you ever so much for your review! I'm glad you're enjoying Frodo's character; he's always fun to mess around with- OK, not the best choice of words but you know what I mean ^^ The description from Fangorn was actually straight from LOTR, so all credit goes to Tolkien, I'm sure he appreciates your lovely comments!
Skye12: *squee-fest* Yay! Welcome back, almighty Skye! Am v jealous that you've seen ROTK 6 times already but I'm willing to let that go if you update "Imprisoned"... Hope you continue to enjoy this story. It's just lovely to hear from you again!
FrodoBaggins87: Hmm, where could our little hobbit be heading? Heh, thanks for the review!
Bookworm2000: 5 times? Auugh, not fair! I got to see it on the last day of the year but not since then...*suffering from withdrawal symptoms* We'll have to get Frodo back somehow, won't we, or you'll probably continue to embarrass poor Sam quite unforgivably ^^ !
~ Chapter Eleven ~
The bushes were illuminated with the light of Gandalf's staff but did not reveal any hidden face or extended hand. And the russet afternoon haze that slanted between the clouds showed even less. Here and there, the small company of wizard and hobbit could hear cries of Frodo's name throughout Ithilien. Every soldier, it seemed, was out hunting for the missing Ringbearer.
"Samwise, you and I shall head east," Gandalf declared, the creases in his face lit by silver sconces amid the trees, "If we are fortunate, we may find Frodo by the mountains. Does that sound right to you?"
"Me, sir?" Sam exclaimed, taken aback.
"Of course! Who knows the mind of our friend better?"
The hobbit paused his chaotic thoughts. Towards the east? Towards what? Why would Frodo go there? Then again, why should he have strayed in any direction?
"East sounds as right as any place," he voiced to Gandalf, who gave a conciliatory nod. The two dived forward, each as fast as the other in their frantic search. There was no knowing what had caused Frodo to run. As sodden leaves writhed under his feet, Sam was brought back to when he had take this same road with Faramir, in similar circumstances. He had never, not in all his days, believed it would come again. That nightmare had awakened a great many doubts in his mind. It had opened up old wounds, if indeed those wounds had ever healed.
Wind fanned out Sam's cloak and made his eyes water. He blinked hurriedly and looked up to Gandalf. The man of Istari had never looked truly old up until then. Oh, of course, his wrinkles and papery skin betrayed a certain age but now...he looked almost cadavorous. There was lingering dread in his deep-set eyes that Sam could only remember in the midst of raining ash and gulping fire.
"Oh why'd you have to run, Frodo?" he whispered through hitching breaths, "Why didn't you say something..."
"Samwise!"
The hobbit jerked to a halt, Gandalf's hand clutching his shoulder. His staff was pointed towards the distant mountauns. Sam waited impatiently, eyes roving the landscape for any sign of what had caught his companion's attention so fully. He thought he heard Gandalf murmur something distantly, as if through the waters of Nen Dîn.
"In fallen towers, one may find a fallen friend."
It took a while for the little gardener to grasp the meaning of it but he had enough sense as any on this quest to realise what it may entail.
"He hasn't...oh, he can't honestly have gone back..."
"If Frodo goes to the ruins of Gorgoroth, it may help him understand that what he seeks can no longer be found. Come, Samwise!"
"But Gandalf," Sam objected, "He said he was glad to have the Ring gone! Strider was right there when he did. He said he was glad to be rid of it!"
"So he may be. But that does not release him from his desire for It. For a long time now, Frodo's being- his very existence- has been encircled by that wheel of fire. By whatever means possible, Frodo knows he must escape."
"So he's escaping us?" Sam cried in alarm.
Gandalf whirled round, eyes betraying thunderous intent.
"He does not do it out of his will! It is not his doing! It is no one's!"
--
"They do not understand," he hissed as another branch slash his cheek. He could hear the blood drumming in his veins. He could feel the breath scraping his lungs. He ran through black woodland that obliterated the sky, all the while muttering and cursing to himself.
"We cannot let them inside!"
Now and then, he would halt in his tracks, his consciences battling to determine his direction.
"Must go on! Must go back to It!"
"No! There is nothing left!"
"Then tell that to those who follow you."
"I must not. They must not find you!"
"They already see me, my love!"
Then his feet would be tugged forward again, the darkness in him always overruling his own anxious protests.
Frodo could not let Sam see what lurked within him. He could not allow his friend to see how bitterly he had been defeated by his task. He did not deserve the love and care he would be shown. But, ah, if he could see It again, lying in It's golden splendour in his hands. Just to see It...to hold It again with his shaking fingers... then perhaps all this madness would die. He might be saved! He might be delivered from nights ridden with visions. The nightmare had shown him the world where Sam was not present. Frodo had witnessed Ithilien as it was now. The Dark Lord had been vanquished. The Ring's reign over the hearts of Men had ended. But there had been no Sam to see it.
Frodo swore he would finish this at last. He would fulfil his longing one last time and he knew above all sense that he would have no more need for the One Ring. Aragorn's voice fell dead at the door of his memories. It was not gone. Not yet. Not until he had seen It and let the age of the accursed thing wither. His hands met the cool stone of the mountain. His feet rested on the sliver-like pathway. Frodo drew himself up and onto the first slope. It would be worth it simply to have this life behind him and have hope restored. Pebbles skittered under his fingers and away down the rapidly increasing fall. No lasting taste of lembas on his tongue. No clogging smoke in his throat. No icy gales nor smell of rotting flesh on the breeze. He would cast his precious away and return to the camp, then Minas Tirith, then to the Shire. Frodo closed his eyes in silent reverie of that name. He would return to green hills, rutted pathways and rounded doors. Perhaps, even, to wave farewell to the last ships as they coasted out into the sea. And all would be righted.
~
I do seem to be focusing on a few characters, don't I? Hope that was bearable!