Chapter 16: The Test

Frodo leaned on the fence on the roadside, breathless. Eos was already out of eyeshot. He was of a mind to run after her, but he knew he would not last long without a cloak.

Then it came crashing down on him. Eos was pregnant. He could not believe it. Was what she had told him the actual truth?

He had never thought that he would have a child of his own flesh. It was impossible! How could it be? Yet there Eos had been, telling him with stricken eyes that she was carrying his child.

"Frodo! Frodo!" Sam rushed out of the door after him. He turned Frodo to him. "What's the matter, Mr. Frodo? What's the matter with Eos?"

"Oh, Sam," Frodo whispered, his head shaking. His vision blurred with pending tears.

Sam put his arms about him. "Tell me," he begged.

"Eos just told me she was pregnant with my child," said Frodo tonelessly.

"Oh…" Sam breathed. There was a pause. "Come back up to the hole, Mr. Frodo. It's cold."

Sam supported Frodo's seemingly limp body back to the Cottons'. He sat him down at the kitchen table and pulled up a chair next to him. Frodo put a hand over his eyes.

"I can't believe it," he said. "I don't know what to think. I am not sure whether she is lying about my being the father of her child, or if she is lying about being pregnant at all… I – "

"Who's lying?" Rosie's voice came from the door. "Frodo, where's Eos?" she asked, entering the kitchen.

"She left," said Frodo bluntly, not looking at her.

"But… so soon?" Rosie asked. She looked from Frodo to Sam and back. "Did you have a row?"

Frodo opened his mouth to speak, but the words would not come. Sam spoke for him.

"Eos just told him she was pregnant," he said.

"Oh!" Rosie gasped. "Poor Eos! But is the baby yours, Frodo?"

"She said the child was mine, but I can't be too sure," said Frodo, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Well, I think if she says so, it is indeed your child," Rosie declared.

"What makes you say that?" asked Frodo, surprised by her sureness.

"It isn't like Eos to lie about these things without thinking about the consequences. Whether a man is the father of a baby is truly shown in the child's semblance. If Eos had wished to lie about such a thing, she probably would have thought about such an instance. If it was obvious she had lied about the fatherhood of her child, there would be serious consequences. And Eos Took does not lie without thinking of the consequences." Frodo was looking at her now, shocked. "Believe me; I've known her since she was Crystal's age. The child is yours, Frodo," she finished.

Frodo was silent. No wonder Eos had looked strange when he talked to her last February. This explainedit all.

"And yet," continued Rosie, furrowing her eyebrows, "why did she leave so early, Frodo?"

He took a deep gulp of air. "Well, when we were sitting together in the living room, I noticed she was strangely silent and tense. I tried to make her pay attention to me, but she kept averting her eyes from me. Finally, she asked me what I'd do if I knew she was carrying my baby. I thought it was a ridiculous thing to ask, since I thought my cares on my journeys had taken away my ability to have children. I clearly was wrong, of course. But at the time, I didn't think she was being serious with me. So, out of frustration I asked her plainly if she was carrying my child. She told me 'yes'…" Frodo trailed off for a moment. "She said that she wanted to 'know enough' before telling me…"

"And…?" Rosie pushed him.

"Then you came in, Sam, and she just ran away from me," ended Frodo. "Why would she do that?" he asked, turning to Rosie.

"Do you think she was afraid of what you would say to the news?" asked Rosie in return.

Frodo's eyes were full of pain. "Perhaps." Then he remembered his conversation with Eos in February. "I remember talking with her about children last month… perhaps that conversation made her think I wouldn't like to have a child."

"But do you want a child?"

"Of course I do! It's just that the timing is all wrong! I wanted for my relationship with Eos to wait a bit, until after her divorce was final. A baby makes the situation all the more complex."

"Frodo," said Sam, "you didn't want to wait last January."

Frodo wanted to protest, but didn't like the idea of making more excuses for himself. "True," he said. "Neither of us wanted to. We lost control of ourselves. It was only afterward that we decided to consider the consequences. Little did we know that it was too late, and that we were already paying the price."

The three of them were silent. Sam, who could not stand the tension, asked, "What are you going to do, Frodo?"

"I don't know," said Frodo almost sharply. "I have enough to think about for the moment. I believe finding out that a woman is two months pregnant with my child is quite a handful, don't you?"

He got up and stomped to his room. He paused when he saw Crystal sitting on his bed, waiting for him. Seeing his agitation, she looked down at her feet.

"Crystal, what do you need?" Frodo asked, trying desperately to make his voice refrain from harshness.

The tiny girl shook her head. "Nothing," she muttered. She'd sensed his unease, and was afraid to upset him further.

"Nothing?" Frodo knelt beside her. "Are you sure?"

"Are you angry at me?" she asked, in the timid inquiring voice that never failed to make Frodo's heart throb with love.

"At you? No, no, baby, not at you." He took little Crystal into his lap and stroked and kissed her hair. "Frodo's angry at himself," he said. "He made your Ma have a hard time without knowing it. Are you sure you don't need something?"

She shook her head vehemently. How dear she is, he thought. He let her slip off of his lap and trot to the living room with her toys.

Frodo collapsed on the bed, shutting his eyes. He could not rid his head of Eos's face, her expression when she told him the fateful truth, the tears that sprang to her eyes as she fled from him.

Are you with child? My child?

Yes.

Are you with child? My child?

Yes.

It played over and over in his head, taunting him like a poltergeist.

That one chance they had to restrain themselves and remain chaste. Frodo clenched his fists. All this complexity could have been prevented with one assertion of the will. Just one.

I can't blame it all on Eos, Frodo thought. I could have restrained the two of us. If only I could take it all back. Oh, Eos, I'm so sorry.

He sat up straight. He got up and rummaged in a chest of his belongings until he found a thin sheet of parchment and a quill pen. He sat at the all slightly crooked table by his bed and began to write. He began, "Dear Eos…"

A few hours later, a letter lay sealed on the table, waiting to be delivered.

They had whips, all of them. They were waving on the hairy legs that were slowly picking him up. No matter how much he struggled, the spider would not relent. Drool – or maybe venom – dripped from its fangs.

It was going to devour him. He knew it. This time it would succeed in making itself a proper meal of hobbit flesh. Its fangs came closer, and closer, clicking together in a malicious manner. Closer, closer…then a white-hot pain in his neck…

"Frodo? Frodo?" Frodo woke with a start. He had gone to sleep in his clothes. Little Crystal was tugging on his shirt sleeve.

"Frodo, Rosie said to come get you," she chirped squeakily. "She says you're late getting up."

He looked around the room distractedly until his eyes landed on his letter on the table. He got up, stumbling a little. Crystal looked at him, confused about his unusual carelessness.

Frodo felt cold, so incredibly cold. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Crystal backing away from him. He tried to open his mouth and reassure her, but his throat seemed blocked. The room was falling away. A black hand seemed to close over his face, pushing his whole body backward. The last thing Frodo felt was a sharp pain, like a knife at its sharpest, digging deep into his neck.

And everything went dark.