Stories of Arda - Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction Archive

Frodo sighed deeply, thick clouds hanging over his eyes, darkening them. Mists of fog obscured his sight.**

Dark shadows loomed over him. Consumed by a black, empty vastness conveying no light, seductive whispers told him to give up the Ring thus be rewarded for his obedience. Tempting promises of never having to suffer echoed in his tired mind.

But he would not yield. Having no desire to submit to darkness, he forced himself to think about happier moments in the comforts of Bag End, trying to hang on to hope and reality. But even those memories were tainted with shadows.

The first time Frodo beheld the sight of Glorfindel, he was amazed at his illuminating presence. When Glorfindel spoke, it felt like a musical interlude was interrupting the dark thoughts that sought to smother him. His arrival helped combat the obscuring mist, which had returned with the setting of the sun.

When Black Riders were mentioned though, Frodo’s attention wavered as a shot of cold pain pierced him. He had not the strength to fight this darkness any longer.

However, Glorfindel’s timely arrival did give a measure of newfound hope and courage.

Aragorn inhaled the fragrance of wild flowers before he opened his eyes - a sweet fragrance, heady and soothing, that made his head feel light.**

Long had he not been in this fair valley of Cerin Amroth. When the lovely fragrance filled his senses with peace, ridding him of any worries, his thoughts turned to his beautiful Arwen Evenstar. How he wished that he could return to her, meeting with the one he loved most once again.

Taking the flower in his hand, he imagined her presence with him at that moment, and how perfect if all could become reality.

Amidst the worry and fear of watching Pippin depart with Gandalf to Minas Tirith, Merry could only maintain a fearless facade, encouraging the perception to Pippin that he felt that this was for the best. But Pippin’s tearful cries of “Merry” echoed in his mind and all emotions surfaced.

He ran up the wooden stairs, watching Shadowfax bear away his beloved cousin to a far, unknown place. Aragorn placed his hand comfortingly upon Merry's shoulder, but this did not prevent salty tears to freely flow down Merry's eyes as the white horse vanished into the vastness of the Rohan plains.

Before I knew it, we had left the city of Edoras and the great Hall of Meduseld had become only a spot from the distance. The wind buffeted against my face as Merry’s words lingered in my mind. I had finally realized the magnitude of what I had done and was overcome with regret.

Will I ever see Merry again? Tears stung my eyes but I dared not sob out loud.

However, Gandalf sensed my despair and whispered comfortingly to me, “Silly Took, you are forgiven. But do not be sorrowful…my heart tells me that you will see Merry again.”

“I would have you smile again, not grieve for those whose time has come. I would have you see these days renewed, no more despair.” ~King Theoden, RotK movie

A lone figure stood facing the mountains where the predawn sun was gently rising to meet the blue sky indicating the start of a new day. Moving closer to the motionless female clad in white, I saw sorrow and hurt in her blue eyes. Holding the cold hands of one touched by frost, I wished that she would see the light at the end of the darkness, to look beyond the pain of love unreciprocated.

My only hope was to see her again and give back the care and love that she so selflessly gave to me all these years.

Tears accumulated in my eyes at these touching words spoken by one whom I loved as a father. At that moment, I could think of nothing but my desire to ride out with him. It was my duty to stay with my people, but to win renown dying on the battlefields seemed better than bearing the pain of my broken heart. Besides, all the people dearest to me were riding out to meet the breaking of the storm, why not me too? Then perhaps, I could die knowing that I had helped in some small way during my bitter existence.

His back ached, lips were parched, and his tummy rumbled with hunger. No position was comfortable to sleep on, in the stony, cold ground of Mordor.

Worried about his master, over the quickly diminishing lembas, and scared that any minute Stinker would reappear to attack, Sam found no way he could sleep in this inhospitable land. Debates ran through his mind about the futility of continuing given the deteriorating state of his master.

He sighed as his mind wandered back to the evil days ahead, the worth of it all, and how it would eventually play out in the end.

When he closed his eyes, surrounded by fire and ashes- aware again of the presence of his truest friend - Frodo saw a bright light that shone and sang of life.**

They had made it. Together, Sam and he had fulfilled the most impossible Quest. Here at the end of all things.

Frodo laid his head back, exhausted, disregarding the fact that his whole body was painfully aching. But his mind and soul felt free, unburdened, finally freed of the weight that had tormented him for so long, with such intensity.

Feeling lighter, possessing hope to finding peace at last, he closed his eyes, oblivious to the fact that the bright light also meant rescue, and that all sad things were going to come untrue.

~~~~~
I look at the pale, exhausted, figure sitting besides me and see that it was once again the master I knew. My heart is glad and I feel relieved. If this is to be our end, I am happy to know that we completed the Quest together and besides each other.

“If only our story would be remembered by those who still live…wouldn’t it had made a good tale,” I thought wistfully.

Feelings of relief mingled with those of sadness. Twinges of homesickness of the beloved Shire, of my family, of Rosie washed over me as tears flowed freely down my face. I will never see them again.

Mr. Frodo held me in his arms till the end of our time, and before I finally gave into darkness with him hand-in-hand besides me, I thought I saw a bright light, indicating hope and promise of something good at the end…

When the Mouth of Sauron brought out the hobbits’ garments and possessions, I could only maintain my outer façade of calmness, but inside, I felt great dread and uncertainty. However, some inner conscience was telling me that either Frodo or Sam was still alive, even though it did not seem so. I could not believe that this was the end, for if Sauron had the Ring, he would present himself at the Black Gate and fight himself. There was still hope. Only could I convince myself to believe this, could I continue to negotiate with the foul Mouth of Sauron.

“Name the terms,” said Gandalf steadily, but those nearby saw the anguish in his face, and now he seemed an old and wizened man, crushed, defeated at last.***

“The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!” –The Return of the King (The Field of Cormallen)***

The Eagles coming was certainly a good sign… But as we all saw the Black Gate crumbling down and the Enemy’s structures in Mordor collapse, all doubts were dashed. This was the hour of victory. The Ring-bearer had succeeded. Words could not describe how glad and relieved I was at this gamble … this fool’s hope as everyone had thought. That I would succeed in bringing out the courage of a long overlooked race of people in Middle-Earth and have them fulfill the seemingly unachievable. My dear, courageous hobbit lads! Tears of happiness came to my eyes as I shouted,

***A/N—The 100 words do not include the quotes that are brought in from the Return of the King.

"It is a long way, is it not, from Bree, where you did not like the look of me? A long way for us all, but yours has been the darkest road." ~Aragorn, The Field of Cormallen, RotK ***

And to think that they were not made of “sterner stuff” when I first met them in Bree; to think that their task had been as hopeless as I was in becoming King again. These selfless, resilient, and courageous Ring-bearers have exceeded all the Wise ones’ expectations and have gained respect from all creatures of Middle-Earth. To accomplish what they have done was no small feat and shall be remembered by all from now till eternity, forever immortalized in story and song. I will make sure that their great deeds will not be forgotten.

A/N--Quotes are not included in the 100 word limit. =) All quotes taken from Tolkien's genius of a work, Lord of the Rings.

And you feel the wind upon your face, the fresh air long that had long been absent, and you cherish for a moment of being alive again. Alive and well, amongst dear friends gathered together in a courtyard of stone. An ever-looming shadow of guilt and doubt lingers, but at that moment, cherishing the simple things that had long been gone is worth the peace, worth not having inhibitions keeping him from being content. Food, drink, constant chatter of familiar voices; no worries that the world would end tomorrow; he had made it and wanted this feeling to last forever.

I could not believe his words of pity and release… how dare he steal from me the last feelings I wanted to inflict, bitterness and anger enough for him or other hobbits to attack? How could he not retaliate?

Now my drastic action of stabbing him was all for naught, for it did not fill him with hatred. If it had been a Man or Elf, I knew that my vengeance would have worked.

This halfing was no fool. His inaction exceeded my expectations of him, but I knew it was not long until darkness would ultimately consume his soul.

“For a moment it wavered, looking to the West; but out of the West came a cold wind, and it bent away, and with a sigh dissolved into nothing.” ~RotK, The Scouring of the Shire

Soul dissolving, darkness descending… the spirit of the fallen Istari will never find a lasting abode, never will it find peace or rest.

No place in the Hall of Mandos, no happy ending in store for evil. There is nowhere the spirit could go, no place where it is welcome to reside. Betraying trust, committing too many sins, it will dissolve and fall into a never-ending cycle of darkness and shadows, trapped in doom forever.

Drifting aimlessly, the once noble spirit is now forever lost in an empty, dark void, cursed to eternal floundering in the wide abyss of time.

No words were necessary. A mutual understanding arose between the four hobbits as they looked at each other, comprehending what this special moment meant. They were at the Green Dragon with one other. Had they foreseen this would ever happen again?

Discreet smiles indicated secret knowledge of their shared experience as a simultaneous toast was raised, conveying feelings of friendship, peace and sweet relief that danger had passed.

Then they drank a long sip of warm strong ale made from the vineyards of their own Shire.

Fading darkness gives some hope. A star in the sky is an image of hope amidst the pain that is still felt, the evil memories that will never cease. Caring friends all around helps you rid of thoughts, though memories could never be erased nor forgotten. But the duty is to let later generations remember the dark times, of how freedom is not so easily attained. Not without great sacrifice.

But now you lay alone, in one of those days occurring twice a year, fingering the jewel that was given, thinking about the day in which peace may be found.

The horizon stretched forth infinitely, the white gulls hovered atop the shining, sapphire sea –-images of those frequent dreams Frodo had had were now present and true before his very eyes.

His time had come to leave Middle-Earth forever. Whatever hurtful memories sustained could hopefully now be washed away and forgotten with time… at another place far from all familiarity.

Tears streamed down his beloved friends’ eyes, but Frodo could cry no more, as he gave them a last heartening smile before departing upon the ship carrying him off to an inevitable fate that he had known would eventually come.

The shimmering light of the phial recedes into the distance, leaving me nothing but the memory of your last words, your gentle kiss upon my forehead. The salty tears continue to stream down my cheeks.

Gone is my dear master of Bag End, the one I had risked my life for, traveling to the end of the world for him and the Quest. Gone is his good-natured spirit that I had come to love.

I look out towards the hazy horizon, into the west, but still feel your presence here in my heart.

Last attempts to wrest the burden away had failed. Predictably, Frodo acted in the selfless matter Bilbo thought he would.

Even before Frodo had uttered those words of commitment, Bilbo had known. This Quest would not be given to him, but to the one he most loved. Heavy regrets mingled with self-reproach as tears that would not spill gathered in his eyes. Feelings of deep regret extinguished any thoughts of it ever being happy at the end.

But he could not let Frodo worry. He had to be strong for the one who had to attempt a most hopeless quest.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

He looked up at me, and I could see heartbreak and tears shed upon his face. The question need not be asked; I knew that his pain was still fresh upon having to let go of one of the best friends he had ever had.

He stood up, trying to look strong, unaffected, but was not successful. With a weak smile, he nodded but did not say anymore.

I took him into my arms hugging him tightly, trying to share his pain and let him know,

“I will always be here for you, Sam.”

A/N: Written for Samwise's birthday on April 6, 2005 and also in memoriam to Nivina.

I had never seen before such splendid loveliness. I could do nothing but stare at the fair and beautiful Arwen Undomiel. Breathless at the sheer beauty that she possessed, I saw why indeed King Aragorn had chosen her instead of any other mortal woman in Middle-Earth.

Immortal and Elvish she was, her face smooth and flawless to behold. Her bright grey eyes shined with joy to be with the one mortal man she loved, and at that moment, she looked to be at peace with the decision that she had so painstakingly made to stay.

Looking away, I realized how foolish I was to ever think of how Isildur’s Heir would ever choose a plain Shieldmaiden as I where he could have the most beautiful being in Arda to be his Queen.
How could I ever had imagined measuring up to what appeared to be Luthien come upon earth again?**

**A/N-Written in response to a Shirebunny and this technically is a drabble and a half and not strictly 100 words...(so may be a bit longer than 100 words. :P)

“...but Frodo ate and drank little, heeding only the beauty of the Lady and her voice.”~Farewell To Lorien, FOtR

Mesmerizing ripples in the water gave him chills, reminding him of first hearing news of the drowning. Tears falling unceasingly from his eyes were drowning him in unspeakable grief.

The morning light shone brightly upon the peaceful river. But there was no other choice but to lead by example and show his strength.

Reluctantly settling himself in the Elven boat, Frodo’s heart would continually be full of trepidation and sorrow had it not been for the melodious voice of Galadriel, calming and helping him forget his fear of water, to keep going.

**A/N--Plot bunny inspired from holbytla and looked over by frodobaggins_88.

He looked back longingly to the solid shore that was left behind along with the comfort and safety of Lorien. He glanced at Frodo, but his master seemed immersed with his own thoughts, taking in the last moments of Lorien.

Sam knew that this would be the last safe haven they would have before venturing on to Mordor. The fear of the unknown future and fear of the water could not overcome his will to follow Mr. Frodo to whatever the end may bring.

The warm embrace lingered on, even when he awoke from his peaceful dream. He felt the sweet embrace of his mother, heard the deep, calming voice of his father. Mother was protectively holding onto him, while Father was gently stroking his dark, curly hair. They were with him in a beautiful land he had yet to find in Middle-Earth. Melodious voices were heard, while his parents’ caring looks had given him security, warmth and love. The dream had made him feel so at ease that it felt strange to enter back into reality.

Lying in his comfortable bed and looking up at the ceiling of Bag End, melancholy feelings of longing and missing them swirled about in his mind. Bitter tears threatened to spill from his eyes, but then Bilbo’s voice entered his conscience, and he remembered all the adventures and lessons he had with Bilbo and how he had pulled him out of grief. Sam, his next-door neighbor, was much fun to play with, and cousins Merry and Pippin always made him smile. Still so many dear ones who cared about him; grief would be a passing thing, for there was still much to experience and learn in life.

Inspired by this quote:
No one answered. The noon-bell rang. Still no one spoke. Frodo glanced at all the faces, but they were not turned to him. All the Council sat with downcast eyes, as if in deep thought. A great dread fell on him, as if he was awaiting the pronouncement of some doom that he had long foreseen and vainly hoped might after all never be spoken. ~Council of Elrond, Fellowship of the Ring

Fate had brought him to this destiny, to this task. He could not abandon this cruel fate that had been dealt upon him.

His fate had been sealed ever since Gandalf had told him that this was indeed the Enemy’s Ring. Proof of his attachment had already been displayed by his reluctance to break it that night in Bag End.

No, there was no other way. There can be no other person that had struggled as much as he has had already, no one who had worn the Ring as much as he had done. There had been no one who had resisted a poisonous Morgul blade for as long as he had …and survived.

Thoughts of remaining peacefully in Rivendell with Bilbo were quickly dashed from his mind. Fate had not intended for him to remain unharmed, hidden in the fair valley of Rivendell.

But there was no pressure. No one had spoken a word. But he knew for certain that they were waiting… for him.

***From Council of Elrond, The Fellowship of the Ring, pg 264 Houghton Mifflin One Volume Edition.

A/N--Word count does not include Frodo's quote at the end. Double drabble written for Nivina's birthday in '04.

He didn’t mean to fondle the accursed yet tempting, simple ring, but ever since the thing came into his keeping, it had been trying to make him, to seduce him to put it on.

The cold steel gave his hand comfort as he grasped onto it, observing it, amazed at the perfect making of so small of a thing. He desired it… he did not want to let it go.

Stroking it ever so delicately, images of power came to his head and he saw another image of himself, one in which he never saw himself as:
Robed the Shire’s best clothing, he saw himself being the one in charge, finally belonging amongst all the fine folk of Middle-Earth, never having any regrets and sadness. Comfort, belonging, free time to do all that his heart wishes yet also have time to be with people who would not think him as strange…. This is what putting on the Ring would give him.

Frodo came out of his reverie and quickly put the beautiful object underneath his tunic.

Inspired by this quote:
“He looked at her, and being a man whom pity deeply stirred, it seemed to him that her loveliness amid her grief would pierce his heart. And she looked at him and saw the grave tenderness in his eyes, and yet knew, for she was bred among men of war, that here was one whom no Rider of the Mark would outmatch in battle.” ~The Steward and the King, RotK

It had all seemed like an image out of an ethereal dream. So fair and beautiful was this young maiden whose long golden locks ran down her slender waist, with bright eyes full of sorrow, hiding sad memories of the past, yet seeking out something to fill the emptiness of her heart.

Momentarily forgetting my own grievous losses, I look at her and pity fills my heart, giving me a reason to keep on living because of my strong desire to help her. I long to learn what would lead her to be so burdened with sadness.

Intuition told me that it was not by chance I would meet this exceptionally beautiful woman. Fate had brought us together here in the fair garden of the Houses of Healing amidst the Great Shadow, amidst the great horrors of battle, beyond all hope that we could survive.

I try to make eye contact and make her see… that we are different yet one of the same, both suffering in this cruel world, brought together because of the experiences of tragedy and loss, hurting from within.

Inexplicably and unexpectedly at first sight I had already fallen helplessly in love with this beautiful stranger.

"Some emotions you cannot mask,
Some things that fill your heart with joy include those moments of reunion with loved ones long parted from you, moments that you dare not voice out loud, wishing only in your heart that it would come true, moments of carefree joy in learning that “all sad is going to come untrue.”

And there he was, back from the Quest in which most people had doubts about it ever succeeding. He had waited for so long, spending restless nights gazing out into the sky, sitting besides the fire… trying to seek some kind of solace from his regret in leaving such a horrible burden for his dear nephew… trying to make himself believe that Frodo would come back…

But now there he stood at the doorway of his bedroom chamber, smiling at him, his bright blue eyes as clear as before … His dear Frodo was back. Bilbo felt utter joy and relief as tears streamed down his cheeks. He held out his arms and as Frodo walked up to embrace him, Bilbo whispered, “I always knew you could do it.”

Frodo didn’t say anything, but just held on tightly to Bilbo, as Bilbo continued to shake in happy disbelief.

Bilbo let his emotions overwhelm him as he continued to weep upon this happy reunion. After half a year of devastating regrets, worry, and suppressed negative feelings, Bilbo finally felt peace at last.

Back in the Shire, there were people and duty that came ahead of his feelings. Frodo, no doubt had a hard time forgetting, so Sam had to be there for him first. It was his duty. Besides, he had to be the cheerful, easy-going Sam that had made Rose Cotton fall in love with him in the first place. The Shire needed to be cleaned up and replanted, and it was his job to make the Shire as it once was. He hadn’t the time to dwell on the Quest. Even though it had hurt him too.Yes, he retained hope even in the dark, painful days of Mordor but could never forget the many internal debates he had all throughout the last leg of the journey, nor forget the despair and hopelessness that he had felt when he had thought that Frodo had died in the dark cave. No one had seen how the treacherous horrifying spider had looked like but him, and he still shuddered at the thought of that monstrous creature. Nor would he ever share to anyone, not even Frodo, the painful secret about his momentary desire to keep the Ring for himself.

Because Sam felt like he was the support, that he was their comforting, reliable Sam. He could not afford to be the burden for anyone else.

And for a moment, as he turned away from his friends, the salty sea air made him remember those dreams he had about the sea. The sea… finally he would travel upon a ship to the Undying lands by passageway of the tranquil, cerulean sea.

For only a fleeting moment, his heart felt heavy with this sorrowful parting. But his eyes remained dry because he had no more tears to cry. A sense of peace permeated his senses; a sense of belonging on the ship with the other Ring-bearers made him light-hearted and made him truly cherish the importance of this moment.

As he moved further on to the plank, he looked back at his friends whose eyes were filled with tears. He gave his dear friends a reassuring smile, a smile that could hopefully comfort them, assure them that this was the right choice for him. He was sure that they would find peace and happiness too.

Frodo was finally off to healing, to hope, to a new beginning in order to find what he could not in Middle-Earth.

They eased their guard, knowing instinctively that they were safe for the moment.

Soft melodies intermingled with elvish voices singing, calming their exhausted and grieved souls. An air of tranquility made the tension recede, making breathing easier. Eyes widened at the bright light illuminating the arrival of two beautiful, tall elves.

Weighed down with grief, apprehension and weariness, the Fellowship heeded nothing but the soft music which served as a soothing balm to their heart and mind, relaxing, letting go for a while of the memories of losing their leader and trials of Moria, so early on in the Quest.

“Merry, do you ever think that Frodo would return from Valinor? When he is healed, what if he is able to return to Middle-earth and stay with us?”

Merry looked into Pippin’s green melancholy eyes, surprised. They were smoking pipeweed in the fair evening outside Crickhollow, looking westwards as they often did.

After a moment’s pause, Merry replied softly and sadly, “I don’t think so, Pip. I feel that no one returns from Valinor. No elves have, and I do not suspect that Frodo would either… Once Frodo is healed, I would imagine Valinor to be a beautiful, peaceful place for him to want to stay in…”

“I surely hope so too, but sometimes you just wonder, ‘what ifs’…” Pippin looked down upon his feet, lowering his pipe in deep thought. The grass was cool beneath his feet and the sun warmed him even in the coming evening. But it did not cheer the heaviness in his heart.

Merry put his arm around Pippin’s shoulders while his other hand gestured to the center of his chest, “Frodo is still with us…in our minds and hearts, always and forever.”

Double Drabble written for ethereal_hobbit / Nivster upon the 11th month of her passing.

He could still see the dressing of the trees in their full splendor of their red, gold and orange leaves, keeping the color present in his world which had become increasingly dark.

The Ring bore down upon him, the shoulder wound pained him terribly, yet the seasonal ritual trees experienced to bring about such lovely colors filled him with hope, kept the light in the world present amidst the iciness that tried to sway him into a colorless world.

The orange candle-light in the dark illuminates the warm hand which comfortingly stroked upon his cold cheek.

To the Sea

The glistening moonlight illuminated the black waters as I looked towards the West, towards where you are.

My wrinkly hands touched the soft grass of Middle-Earth, taking in the earth that I had planted all these years. There were memories of my dear children, the good brown earth of the Shire, the joyous mayoral banquets… but nothing could be the same without my Rose.

Dear Rosie… how I miss you so.

But you had always held the other part of my heart. The sea-yearning had taken hold too strongly. And I knew that my fate lay in following your footsteps.

The Shadow Has Departed

There was a change in the wind. An overwhelming heaviness was lifted from his heart and at that moment it seemed that the air was rid of the stifling power of Mordor; the Sun was unveiled, shining warming rays upon him, heartening him.

The outline of a great brown Eagle flew towards Minas Tirith and brought forth a flurry of song. And then all Gondorians seemed to burst out in song, to celebrate the downfall of Sauron, to celebrate life.

Joy welled up in Merry’s heart for the first time in a long while. Frodo and Sam have succeeded. Tears welled up in his eyes, falling down his cheeks. Relief washed over him as he closed his eyes to relish the thought of a Free Middle-Earth, to relish the thought that Frodo had succeeded in accomplishing the impossible.

The Quest had been achieved.

A/N-- This is a drabble and a half written for Gondorian New Year March 25, 2006.

Resolved

I'm glad that Gandalf and Bilbo had allowed us to follow Frodo and Sam. Merry and I were resolved to follow Frodo to whatever end. There had been no way for Elrond to deter us from doing what we needed to do. Decisions were already made.

So now we're off again...

Merry is besides me, protectively glancing at me, his blue eyes seeming to indicate that he half wished that I would stay or go back to the Shire. I meet his gaze and look determinedly back. I was going on.

Because what would Frodo and Merry do without me?

A/N--Written for slightlytookish.

The birds outside were chirping as the bright sunlight of the early morning filtered through the round windows of Bag End. Upon the kitchen table, there stood bowls and plates of fresh fruit, pancakes, tea and toast. Bilbo looked at Frodo; his lad was biting into the pancakes that had been specially prepared for him.

“Uncle Bilbo, sit down and join me!” the enthusiastic tweenager motioned to the empty seat. “So delicious—how did you know pancakes are my favorite?”

For the first time in many lonely years, Bilbo had someone to smile with at the beginning of each day.

The hour has come: to rise up, embrace my destiny or to sink down into the unforgivable depths of insignificance and remain but a shadow of Elendil’s kin.

To part from her is sorrowful, but this time I must return with the fate we had long been anticipating. Her glance mingling with expectation, hope and love pierces me keenly as I look upon her one last time.

My resolve is set. Responsible for the Ring-bearer’s fate and for the certainty that Middle-earth be crowned with a king, I will emerge victorious over Sauron and ultimately earn the love of Arwen Undomiel.
---
Written for Slightlytookish's "Departing Rivendell" drabble series challenge.

Had it been my own choice, I would return to my Woodland realm, carefree, disinterested, and singing under the boughs of the green, thick leaves of the great forest of Mirkwood. But I have to represent my kind and must keep in mind that it will not be too long till the ire from Sauron’s power will encroach upon my lands and affect my people.

Loath was my heart to leave my father’s kingdom, yet with this oncoming storm, who knows if our path lies in fleeing to the sea and leaving Middle-earth as well? Whither then, I cannot say.

---
Written for Slightlytookish's "Departing Rivendell" drabble series challenge.

As I looked back one last time upon the Last Homely Home, Elrond’s words echoed in my thoughts--trouble back in the Shire requiring either Pippin or me to return. But Pippin following me had always been the plan. Then again, why place Pip in needless peril?

Frodo needed me, but Pippin did too. My worried glance fell upon Pippin as his determined green eyes met mine, imploring that he would go, tied in a sack, in any way, he would be following. Let’s follow then, together, for Frodo needed us both to be with him, until the bitter end.

And here we go, off to the fabled dark land of Mordor. What the Gaffer would say now, I can hardly imagine.

My choice had been made long ago. There was no other way than to follow my master till there and back again. There was something to see through to, and it was my duty all along to stay by his side.

Besides me, Mr. Frodo looks pensively determined yet I know that there are doubts that he would share with nobody.

Looking ‘round, I see the Company’s downcast eyes. At least my cheerful ol’ Bill is coming along.

Throw it in the fire … I say folly, yet I will go on with the Company and protect the Ring-bearer in our arduous journey South. What dangers are before us, I cannot foresee.

Truehearted men stand by the belief that Sauron will not conquer, not until the White City is destroyed which will never happen while she is still strong. I have a while before I can convince Frodo not to acquiesce to the Council’s command. And if I acquire my ends, I will indeed bring a mighty gift that would aid us in turning the tide against Sauron.

No one’s eyes are upon me though I feel the pressure of the burden already. Every since the fateful day of the Council, I had willed myself to accept this fate, one in which I had willingly accepted, to the surprise of all but me.

The Ring’s cold metal on its chain upon my skin is a constant reminder of its evil presence as I feel the weight of the world placed upon my shoulders.

I can only hope that the endurance of my will would keep the evilness at bay and help in combating the many doubts I feel.

Dwarves are not the ones who hide in their mountains of stone and forget about the happenings of Middle-earth… The Elf makes me a bit edgy and I loathe him for coming, but it’s one more chance to show, who is the better race.

This Quest is a calling, something that can reassert that my people are important, ones who can still make a difference and help all folks of Middle-earth. The last chance to prove the worth of my kind lies in this Quest and may I not leave the Ring-bearer until I see that his Quest be completed.

A hobbit—who would have guessed the fate of Middle-earth lies on the one with the smallest stature, least hardy folk? If I had not known Bilbo, from what my father had said about him, I would object the moment I heard the Ring-bearer utter those words at the Council.

But who had the stouter heart during the time when the Arkenstone was in contention? Hobbits are more than meets the eye—the Ring-bearer and his fellow kinsmen are probably the bravest ones of all. Look at their determined eyes! I should not doubt the hobbits’ worth, not just yet.

Long had I foreseen the necessity of destroying the one thing native to Sauron’s power yet I have not expected that in hobbits lies the greatest responsibility. Say not it is folly yet for if success enfolds, a ‘fool’s hope’ may prove otherwise. I will help the Ring-bearer, as long as I am able to.

To overthrow Middle-earth’s pervasive evil or to fail the appointed task: the last opportunity is before me. The roads are long, hard to Mordor and how I am fated to go, I cannot say.

As the Fellowship’s leader, everyone’s fate lies in my hands. I cannot fail.

He was the most beautiful baby hobbit that had ever been born in the Shire: bright blue eyes, a fair complexion, an angelic appearance made Primula’s heart sing with joy as the mid-wife handed her first child into her arms.

“He’s beautiful,” Drogo gently kissed Primula’s head while stroking the newborn’s smooth cheek.

The newborn’s eyes closed, his little mouth gave a little yawn, showing his dimple, as he nestled closer to his mother’s warm body.

Soft blankets enclosed protectively over the newborn and the new parents could only beam with happiness with the birth of their first son, Frodo.

Those wide, green eyes peeked up at me, almost inquisitively, and his smile already lights up the room as I set my eyes upon the first son of Paladin and Eglantine, lying there in his crib with blue, soft blankets wrapped around his small body snugly.

His little fingers gently grasped at me, curious to see this new stranger stare at him in wonder. I affectionately placed my hand upon his brown, light curls and wondered if I had been so small once before.

Seemingly able to sense my thoughts, baby Peregrin gurgled at me, and I was quite amused at his baby sounds. My heart warmed to see such a happy baby. It seemed inexplicable, but there was something about this active, smiley little newborn that made you want to love him already … Tooks just knew how to work their charm at first glance.

“I shall look after you, my dear Took and we shall get to know one other,” I whispered to him. Little Pip just continued to smile and I knew that this young one was going to take a special place in my heart.

--
A/N-Double Drabble written for Slightlytookish on her birthday January 2007.

More Beautifuller Still

“I think she is very beautiful, and is going to be beautifuller still.” ~Sam, The Grey Havens

There was just something about sleeping babies that captured Frodo’s heart in the first instance that he beheld the first newborn daughter of Sam. Tears of happiness filled his eyes for seeing the first child of his dearest friend.

Golden yellow curls, fair skin and rosy cheeks framed the innocent face of one of the most beautiful babies Frodo had ever seen. Even in sleep, you knew that she was one adorable, beautiful baby.

Sam just smiled tears of joy. “I’m flattered, Mr. Frodo; I really am lucky to be gifted with this Elvish beauty, very lucky. Pity not a son as I’m stuck with a name now, but I couldn’t be any luckier to be blessed with such a beautiful daughter… makes a father so proud.”

Frodo thought for a long moment before replying. He was certainly inspired now since he had seen how the newborn looked like and was keen on thinking of a name for Sam’s daughter. He thought about the beautiful things he had seen in life, the ones that would be appropriate for a hobbit lass. “How about ‘Elanor’, you know the little golden flower in Lothlorien?”

“That’s just about right, sir! That sounds very right indeed,” said Sam excitedly. “I can’t wait to tell Rosie.”

“I hope she likes it,” replied Frodo as his glance went back upon the sleeping hobbit nestled in a bunch of warm blankets, smiling even in dreams.

---
A/N-Double drabble and a half written for Slightlytookish's birthday Jan. 2007

What Frodo beheld as he caught his first glimpse of Valinor were majestic green hills rolling into one another. Taking a deep breath, he was amazed at the fresh air that seemed to cleanse his soul and rid him of any worries.

"Behold Frodo, the one place that few mortals could go," said Gandalf besides him.

The ship inched closer and closer to shore. The golden sunshine was slowly setting indicating that the time was getting late yet the temperature was warm and comfortable. Frodo continued to take in the beautiful sight around him—from the lush forests north of the harbor to the white fine sands of the beach, to the magnificent Elven company that was waiting by the harbor for him, Frodo unexpectedly felt quite at ease as he took his first steps out from the Elven ship and into the Blessed Realm.

Frodo could feel Bilbo besides him also smiling with excitement and wonder. "This will be another chapter to our book, my dear lad," said Bilbo with a twinkle in his eyes.

It sure will be, thought Frodo. He felt at peace already by the serene surroundings, and indeed he felt, that he had come home.

---
A/N-Double drabble written for Nivster upon the two year anniversary of her untimely death.

To see my eldest daughter acquire such great honor makes me once again think about how it felt when Mr. Frodo and I were honored at Cormallen. The great lords do not need to flatter us like this! King Elessar and Queen Arwen have further solidified the bonds between the Shire and Gondorian in one more way.

I can’t help but smile and cheer loudly as the wreath of flowers are placed upon Elanor’s head of gold. She smiles humbly, blushes yet stays calm and gives a most graceful curtsy as Queen Arwen announces her, a maid of her court. In the company of so many hobbits and Gondorians, she has shown such grace.

Young Ellie, just a child, but is so mature for her age. My heart has always thought her as exceptional; not only Elvishly beautiful but also smart, quick-witted, not at all like her Da. Ellie will be a wonderful representative for the Shire-folk in the world abroad.

“You’ve allowed us to honor one Elvish beauty among hobbits, Master Samwise,” said King Elessar.

Wordlessly, I nodded; joyful tears blurred the scene as once again I understood how come my Gaffer has always thought I’ve been a softie.

Bilbo had just finished his afternoon tea, pondering about how or with whom he was to celebrate his seventy-eighth birthday when Hobbiton’s messenger, Milos Goodbody knocked at his door, all out of breath to tell him that Primula, his first cousin on his mother’s side, had just had a son, Frodo, several hours ago.

“Oh what news is this to get on one’s birthday!” cried Bilbo in joy. “How is Primula, how is the baby?”

“Of course! Of course! I can’t think of a better birthday gift that Frodo had given them and me on this day,” sighed Bilbo with happiness.

After many years of not doing anything for his birthday since he had his unexpected "there and back again" adventure, he thought with a grin,

Brighter than usual costumes marked the diminutive little hobbit lads and lasses going out to trick-or-treat in the night in which all were out and about going from smial to smial in search for nice treats to indulge in. The little Shirelings were dressed as various animals, dragons, their version of Elven folks, and had even dwarf-like costumes with beards hanging from the little chins of hobbit-lads. Held tightly by the hand and led by elder hobbits, the younger hobbit children were guided and watched over carefully.

The air was cool, yet not cold, and the autumn leaves littered the floor with red, orange and gold colors. It was nearly twilight; the light from the sun refracted by the earth's atmosphere gave a gleam of splashing the sky with light pinks and oranges. It was the perfect weather and time to go all around the Shire to collect sweets to their hearts’ content.

The stranger who watched from a distant bush concealed, sighed in contentment, glad for the peacefulness and good joy that All Hallow's Eve brought to these wondrous, simple folk.

May they always be at peace, happy and content in Middle-Earth,” thought the Ranger. May Eru bless their innocent souls.

Your hazel eyes are different now. Wisdom had replaced innocence, making the simple hobbit I knew from before, grown, mature. Your glance is keen, piercing with the message that you had missed me, that you still love me.

After all the sleepless nights of worrying, missing you. Finally, you were back, here, in my arms.

I could taste my salty tears, though it could not match the sweet taste of your lips, as we dissolved in a kiss, serving as confirmation that love had endured.

“Sam dear, why are you awake already?” Bell peeked up at little drowsy Samwise besides her bed up before the crack of dawn.

“I wanted to …get ready for the day, Momma,” Sam’s brown eyes gazed out the round window only to see still darkness.

“Come along, you should return to bed… Da won’t garden with you till you get some more rest.” Bell got up from bed, picked Sam up (though he was becoming quite a big lad), and tucked him in a nest of cottony, wooly blankets.

“Course, sweetie… now close your eyes.” Bell brought the blanket up to Sam’s chin, ruffled his hair affectionately, and kissed his head of brown soft curls.

Sam-lad snuggled into his soft pillows and warm blankets. Before he could say more, his eyelids closed to the sweet fragrance of his Ma besides him.

Poor Frodo-lad had a nasty cold. Primula and Drogo tried to keep him comfortable, making honey tea to ease with his cough and sore throat, providing extra soft handkerchiefs for that nasty runny nose, reading stories to him, feeding healing teas to him at proper intervals. But there was something missing

Frodo was restless in bed. His blankets were so scratchy, they rivaled to how his head was feeling for a headache was coming on.

“Bilbo!” Frodo got excited at the sight of his favorite uncle… surely with Bilbo’s heartwarming tales and sense of humor; he wouldn’t find lying in bed so difficult.

“My dear lad, how are you feeling?” Bilbo went besides the bed to give Frodo lad a huge embrace.

“I’m doing better…though I need to sleep now, but it’s hard with these blankets,” Frodo sniffled, grimacing as Drogo fed him another herbal tea. Primula followed up with some warm water with a tinge of honey.

“Oh I have just the thing!” Bilbo took out a sky blue cotton comforter and wrapped Frodo in it.

“It’s so soft…” Frodo drowsily snuggled into it, enjoying the contours, the spongy, feel of it as he felt more tired already.

“Rest easy, dear lad,” Bilbo whispered in his ears, as Primula and Drogo gazed lovingly at their peacefully sleeping son.

“And now may I make a right choice, and change the evil fate of this unhappy day!” ~Aragorn, TTT book

Was the fate of the Ring-bearer clearly not in my hands anymore? The Fellowship has sundered and has failed: Boromir was dead, Merry and Pippin were captured and Frodo had departed.

With the pressure of the choice laid upon my shoulders by my remaining companions, I tried to make a decision on how to proceed. Following Frodo would’ve been easy to do but to leave his kinsmen in the horror of the orcs would be following the logic of the mind but not the heart.

But what was the original plan of the Fellowship? To follow the Ring-bearer to whatever ends no matter what? Would I be abandoning my allegiance to Frodo if I turned away from the true Quest? Pity it was to see Gandalf go so soon, into the depths of Moria where his advice is so desired at the moment. Had he been here, we would not have delayed so much.

I sat down, fastening Boromir’s gauntlets to my hands, hardening myself to a choice. Time was precious and every minute counted.

The importance of friendship and how dear Merry and Pippin had become to me ceased the internal debate at once.

“We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death, not while we have strength left.”
~FotR movie

A/N-- Double drabble count does not include the movie and book quotes bookmarking the drouble...

What had made me cower in fear and fall at the instant where Frodo had needed me most?

Tears gathered in my eyes as I rushed forward to see the prostrate form of Frodo lying facedown upon his broken sword. I fell to my knees, anxiously looking at Frodo and at Sam who, amidst his tear-stained cheeks, was trying to revive Frodo.

Choked sobs made me turn to see Pippin, pale as Frodo, weeping quietly with his knees pulled up. I gathered Pippin in my arms, drawing him near, trying to give and find comfort just enough to help us aid Frodo.

Shadowy figures approached us slowly but I stood immobilized beside Merry. They will not get to Frodo. Even though my sword was unsheathed, a strong sense of cold fear seemed to freeze my soul

As I fell, the cry of Elvish, the clink of metal upon the ground, and the anguished cry of Frodo blanketed me with utter dread.

“Frodo?” I whispered. Too scared to see how badly Frodo was injured, I knew then, that the hardest part of the journey was just about to begin.

With dread, I saw Merry and Pippin fall in fear, as the shapeless Black Riders came charging towards us.

Frodo trembled visibly, amidst a bitter struggle, as he reached for his pocket…Suddenly, he disappeared.

The immobilizing, chilling fear passed only after Strider had chased away the wraiths; all feeling left me as I ran to see Frodo, unconscious and bleeding.

The trepidation of Frodo dead could only compare to the feeling of when I first found out that Ma had died. Still, a pulse remained, hope rekindled, as I tried to be strong… for all of us.

The Ring-wraiths had come. A bitter struggle was necessary to fight and protect the hobbits.

They fled at the sight of fire but I realized immediately that I had been too late.

Huddled on the ground besides Frodo, the hobbits’ faces were aggrieved, cheeks tear-stained. Frodo’s blood-stained tunic sapped them of hope.

“Get Frodo comfortable and lay him by the fire,” I commanded as I hastily went away once more.

I had promised Gandalf that I’ll see that Frodo would get to Rivendell. And if life or death I would save him, I will.

I stirred and forced my eyes open. Blurrily, the anxious faces of Sam, Merry, and Pippin focused dimly before me. Involuntarily I cried out,

The chill and pain was permeating my shoulder and side. Weakly, I let the others tend to my hurts and answer to my questions on what had happened.

Dizzily, I tried to absorb the information that my friends were telling me but at that moment, I only felt guilt, a bone-numbing pain spreading, immobilizing me, further worrying me of how I was able to proceed along the journey.

The Precious calls us, yes it does, to be with it again would make us free, free, I tell you.

He desires it too and He’s looking, always looking now. Always does he want Bagginses… wants His Ring.

As do we, and as soon as we get the precious, all will be better, all will end. We are its masters, precious.

No fool, it’s dangerous, foolish…longer must we wait to see what the tricksy hobbitses are up to…Longer we must wait and when the precious is gone, we will then turn to dust.

Frodo woke, startled, unexpectedly finding himself in unfamiliar surroundings—and realized that he was in Bag End now for Uncle Bilbo had just adopted him that day.

He nestled into the warm covers of his double-hobbit sized bed and mused at the peacefulness of the environment which was a contrast to the loud and crowded Brandy Hall. His room and bed were bigger than before and he could only hear the outside chirping of crickets, not the crying of another young Brandybuck relative.

Although content with the undivided attention and care of Uncle Bilbo, he still missed his Merry though, and this was the one thing that kept the whole adoption a bit bittersweet.

“Dear Frodo-lad, do not worry—-we will be making many journeys together and whenever you miss Merry, we will scurry over there, all right?”

Uncle Bilbo also promised that there will be many exciting adventures around the Shire, as well as Elvish lessons to be taught and maybe there would be a chance encounter with one too.

Frodo smiled at these reassurances, and feeling relaxed and optimistic about the future ahead at Bag End, he snuggled against the soft, feather-filled pillow and fell fast asleep.

I had thought that Frodo had died when that troll’s spear impaled into his flesh. A new layer of respect overwhelmed me when I picked up the seemingly dead hobbit—only to hear his voice say calmly “I’m all right, I’m not hurt” and I almost drop him in surprise. Again, Frodo has shown the resilience only the strongest warriors have shown.

Later, on the way to Lothlorien when I tend to Frodo’s hurts, I see grief and guilt in his blue eyes and gently acknowledge that it would progressively be harder as the road goes on but emphasize that I will be there for him. He nods at me in gratitude, but it is clear we are both hurting from the loss of our leader.

Running at the rear as we continue our way to Lothlorien, I realize that all hobbits are loyal and strong but only Frodo has a clear light in his eyes, enduring and determined. The sense of grace that Frodo carries himself with inspires and leads on his fellow kinsmen and faithful servant. Not all hobbits seem to be as special as this one and indeed, Bilbo has found one exceptional heir in Frodo Baggins.

All of last night’s events seemed awfully sudden. Gandalf’s words struck a chord. Something stirred in his heart, listening to the dwarves sing that enchanting song last night.

Images of him helping out the dwarves flashed in his mind. Discovering lands only his books tried to describe. Why not see what was beyond the borders of the Shire? Why can’t he be the hero and bring in the gold?

He didn’t have time to think of what to pack. He thrust all that was necessary into his backpack and ran out the door.

He even admits that has not fought before. Why Gandalf would volunteer such an inexperienced member of the company is beyond my imagination. I bite back my impending sarcasm i had intended and tried to be courteous even though i have high hopes and expectations for this Quest and did not want anyone to contribute to it failing.

Despite misgivings, I would let the wizard guide me this one time, but I would not be responsible for his fate nor his safety.

There was a commotion. I turned and looked back. The hobbit ran and caught up with us. What had prompted him to change his mind? He came, even though he said no. The Company smiled and joked at his lateness.

The hobbit was reluctant to ride the pony, even more reluctant to leave without a handkerchief. I scoffed; we would need more than handkerchiefs in the wild.

Why he would defend me is beyond my comprehension. Those orcs and wargs are dangerous! Not even my kin could’ve jumped in so quickly to fend off the danger. And I wouldn't blame them. Between the fire and falling trees, everyone was in deep peril. But this hobbit took out his sword (not that he has any experience wielding it) and saved me in the nick of time against Azog!

Besides, I did not think he would return to us after my harsh words of him not belonging.

You! What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed! Did I not say that you would be a burden, that you would not survive in the wild and that you have no place amongst us? I've never been so wrong in all my life. "

What Bilbo did for us was his duty to help us take treasure from the dragon. After all, we could not fight through to the dragon but instead wanted to make sure that some of the treasure be restored to us. We could not risk anyone but him.

Wasn’t this what Gandalf intended? Dragons do not know the smell of hobbits so he would be the best to complete our task.

The last breath drew near for me, and I’m glad that Bilbo was besides me so I can tell him how sorry I was. He surprised me in all the good ways that us dwarves have yet to learn. I have paid for being stubborn. To be simple, to cherish the simple treasures like home and good company, I would take this to my next life.

Bilbo looked at me with tear-filled eyes like he could not believe I shall soon pass to another world. Don’t die, Thorin!

“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”***

Merry and Pippin always wanted to gather in the beginning of Rethe. Today would be the two-year anniversary of Boromir’s passing. Pippin had a tradition to not only write to Faramir, but had made sure they have a special spot underneath the new party tree spot to commemorate. Frodo and Sam also joined, bringing flowers.

“To our dear member of the Fellowship, we remember and honor you for being a loyal companion. We miss you and will think of you always with fondness and respect.”

And Frodo, even though he would be grieved of the last meeting they had, would honor the memory of his protection throughout the Quest and chose that fact to speak of.

Sam would remember his strong defense of their group, his quick reflexes and his stories of how fiercely Gondor protected them all.

Pippin feels the loss most keenly, would remember not only his last stance to protect him and Merry, but for his valor, his pride, and his good heart underneath his stern demeanor.

“To dear Boromir, I will always honor you, and seek to serve Gondor always in your memory.”

It didn’t seem to feel like time could have passed so quickly. Sam noted his master’s discomfort during mid Rethe , even though the days became longer and the flowers were starting to bloom. Spring was rebirth, but to Frodo, it was regression to a recurring nightmare.

Frodo seemed more reserved than before and remained aloof, drawn to himself like he couldn’t even trust his dear Sam. It pained Sam’s heart.

Some things time could not mend. The calendar marked the passage of time, but time could not erase the pain. Hope was fading like the sun setting to darkness.

He seemingly strayed into a dream. He had that strange feeling, a lump in his throat, an intuition that his worst nightmare had come true. The nightmare of his immobile brother bloodied, in the dark, was something awful. He had woken panting and in sweat.

He waded into the shallow lake and saw what he dreaded, his own brother’s face, with his sword and cloven horn, deep in slumber or death as he had foreseen?

Grief unimaginable swallowed him whole, and he cursed at himself for not taking the errand instead.

“The old moon passed, and a new moon waxed and waned in the world outside, while we tarried there.” –Aragorn, The Great River

“It was the same moon that I looked upon before I came to Minas Tirith that made me think of you, Frodo,” said Pippin.

“The moon looked far off for me when I went with the Rohirrim to see to Gondor’s aid,” said Merry.

“No moon was seen in Mordor…only the stars kept me hopeful,” said Sam. “Did you remember the Stinker always referred to it as the Pale Face?”

“Now we will not fear moonlight anywhere. How it shines so beautifully bright along Minas Ithil,” said Aragorn.

**Written for the Tolkien_weekly challenge. Drabble count does not include Aragorn's quote.

“But all the while I sit and think of times there were before, I listen for returning feet and voices at the door,” ~Bilbo, Fellowship of the Ring**

All signs pointed to a cold winter, and his heart grew colder when the Council and Frodo had decided to do the impossible. Behind his calm facade, he felt guilty seeing him and his kinsman attempt a Quest that even the wisest did not feel truly advisable. But where was the choice? There had been none.

Snow gathered afresh in Rivendell. The usual Elvish songs sounded mellower. Bilbo waited patiently as his naps grew longer.

But when the first white lily showed sign of blossom, there was at last, news. And Bilbo, hoping against hope, saw hope renewed in spring.

It seemed like it was yesteryear when he was in that comfortable armchair in Bag End, smoking a fragrant Old Toby, drinking a cup of tea, reading his favorite book. Frodo thought that it seemed like such a long time ago that it seemed like a far off spring of another year. He thought about the fields and rivers of the Shire, his favorite tree, the pale ale at the Green Dragon. Would he ever get back to that comfortable lifestyle?

Though they were in trackless paths of Ithilien, he still felt that these thoughts were suffocating him, but that pain was not as keen as the feeling of being alone on his way to attempt the most hopeless Quest. Yes, he had Sam besides him but he had left all that he loved behind, and he felt terrible that he left them without any warning. And to see what had happened to Boromir. His heart pained from the recollection of his madness. Will they ever forgive him?

“Time for another go, Mr. Frodo,” said Sam gently, breaking into his dark thoughts.

He tried to force a smile, but the burden of guilt was strong. He tried to remember his carefree times as the owner of Bag End, but reminiscing was hard, the memories were fading as quickly as his strength to endure.

Would he ever make it to remember the good of the world again? Would it ever be the same if he ever did?

The cool metal of Ring bore down on him, a constant reminder of what was at stake, how dangerous his position had increasingly become.

Wordlessly, Sam supported Frodo for another trek, murmuring random thoughts about the weather and such. Gollum was several steps ahead, as they went closer into the hidden path into Mordor.

“Well done! Mr. Baggins!” he said, clapping Bilbo on the back. “There is always more about you than anyone expects.”** – A Thief in the Night

He did not know that a hobbit would make that much of a difference in this Quest. When Gandalf told Thorin, he found a burglar in a hobbit, he had expected the stealth of hobbits as the only advantage he was seeking and nothing more.

But Bilbo had surprised him —from evading capture in the Elven halls, to his courage rescuing the dwarves from the vicious spiders, and especially the relinquishing of the Arkenstone to the initial dismay of all the dwarves, Gandalf never knew that Bilbo could have such insight.

The resourcefulness of hobbits should thus never be underestimated.

~~~~

“Not alone,” said Legolas. “We think that Sam went with him.”

“Did he!” said Gandalf, and there was a gleam to his eye and a smile on his face. “Did he indeed? It is news to me, yet it does not surprise me.” ~The White Rider

When Gandalf heard that Sam went with Frodo to Mordor, it did not surprise him. A burden lifted to know that Frodo was not alone. Sam always impressed by his ways of caring for his master, his eye for the small details. Sam was no warrior, no wizard, but his love for his master would carry the Quest through.

Gandalf could not have chosen a better hobbit to accompany the Ring-bearer. The kindhearted, loyal hobbit would follow his master to whatever end. When the darkness sought to cover their spirits and smother their wills, Samwise’s light would guide the way.

~~~

“I did not hinder it, for generous deed should not be checked by cold counsel.” ~Gandalf, Minas Tirith

Peregrin Took had indeed grown since the beginning. From only asking inane questions to serving as a mere distraction as another hobbit to bring along, he had certainly shown his innate quality, different from the others but necessary nevertheless.

Gandalf observed at the hobbit in the Gondorian armor as he tried to follow the orders. A tween and not yet a grown hobbit, Pippin has shown more composure than he expected under the dark times and also still recovering from the influence of the Palantir.

Peregrin had grown under his watch, and Gandalf thought there would be more surprises yet.

~~~~

“His grief he will not forget; but it will not darken his heart, it will teach him wisdom.” Aragorn, “The Houses of Healing”

“Meriadoc Brandybuck,” Gandalf addressed the hobbit solemnly as he approached. Merry was watching over his friends under the tents in Ithilien.

“Gandalf! I’m so glad you’re all right. I thought—“Merry drew close to the wizard.

“No I am fine, and I’m glad you are here. You’ve shown quite extraordinary resilience!”

“What do you mean? I did not do anything, and I did not even fight at the end with Pippin, letting him get buried by a troll! How am I the strong one? And will Frodo, Sam, Pippin be all right?”

“Merry, Pippin getting injured isn’t your fault! Your friends will be all right. You’ve fought through the Black Shadow not once but twice. You helped slay the Witch-king. You’re the one to endure when times get tough with those around you; you’ve shown strength for you’ll be there for your kin when they awake and that is when they’ll need you most. Meriadoc, don’t underestimate the power you have to make the difference in their healing. You’re showing a new kind of courage.”

“I never thought of it that way, Gandalf.”

Gandalf embraced the tear stained hobbit, “You’re going to make a fine Master of Buckland one day.”

~~~~~~~~~~

”He is not half through yet, and to what he will come in the end not even Elrond can foretell. Not to evil I think. He may become like a glass filled with a clear light for eyes to see that can.” – Many Meetings, FotR

Gandalf looked gravely and at Frodo and sat beside him while he slept in Ithilien in a healing sleep. Gandalf was reminded of how Frodo looked when he was recovering from the Morgul wound in Rivendell, but this time he looked thinner, paler, more worn, ever more like a shell of his own self. His third finger on his right hand was missing, bandaged up in white cloths.

Thinking about all that Frodo had to endure to overthrow the Dark Lord, Gandalf felt moved to tears that involuntarily fell down his cheeks. Frodo had gone through so much, more than any hobbit had to or would have. The Ring would have left its mark. Would it ever be the same?

He held Frodo’s small hobbit hands in his. How indebted Middle-earth is to this hobbit! All the praise and stories would not capture the immensity of what this hobbit accomplished. All the races of Middle-earth would hold Frodo to high honor. But will Frodo be himself, care to live again, remember the good of this world, like how it would be before the Quest?

This was the ultimate sacrifice that must have been done to ensure the safety of all.

~fin~

**Word count does not include quotes that precede the drabble.

Thank you to grey_wonderer for her thoughts and encouragement. <3

It wasn’t that Frodo did not hear Gollum’s tormented back and forth forces with himself. It spooked Frodo out that he did not sleep for several nights forward.

He knew of Sam’s glances at him and he knew that Sam did not approve of the plan to use Gollum’s shortcut.

“Why does Master care, we do not care that you care, do we preciousss,” Gollum replied looking away.

“You were one of us, in the past. Gandalf told me your sad story,” continued Frodo looking at him with pity.

“You were called Smeagol at one time… the Ring brought you to how you are now, didn’t it?”

Gollum jerked at Frodo calling It so obviously, leaned forward. “You gots it don’t you?”

Frodo recoiled at his reaction but kept his calm. “Why don’t we both resolve to keep it away from Him and you help me do that? That will be your ultimate sacrifice. This isn’t something for us to have, Smeagol. You’ve done your share of harm. Why don’t you help and turn it into a good action, instead?”

“You don’t need anything and do not have to be controlled by anything,” Frodo replied sternly. “Promise me by the Ring that you won’t succumb to It and will do as I say. Sacrifice yourself.”

Smeagol shrunk and withdrew to what he was already, a former shell of his own self and he could do nothing but oblige.

Perhaps I had sent him on a hopeless quest. I can only do all in my power to protect Minas Tirith and I will not bow down to criticism. Mithrandir thinks he’s so wise but he knows not about how Gondor’s policies are upheld. Pelennor must be fought; Faramir should be the one to do it.

Then word came to me that the attempt to take back the Pelennor had failed; Faramir had fallen.

The darkness was overbearing. As we moved East, the air seemed to still and I felt even more forgotten than ever.

“Who are these men,” I asked the sullen Dernhelm who had not once spoken to me. We were facing strange men of different language and dress and I was ill at ease.

It looked like King Theoden was trying to negotiate a way in. It seemed that we could not face our enemies head on and we were looking for a short cut.

It did not seem hopeful at all. Between Denethor’s growing madness and Minas Tirith becoming more and more inhospitable, I did not know where to go and how to serve. There was no instruction; there was no structure. What was a knight of Gondor to do at this time of utter destruction?

Denethor looked more unbearable than wrath upon learning his son was mortally wounded from his attempt. He was bringing him somewhere, but all I knew that Faramir was ill, not dead …yet. Denethor would not heed my words but it was apparent Faramir needed medicine.

Never did I feel so helpless, not even when I was in the clutches of the Uruk-hai had a felt so very heavy-hearted. And I was all alone. What would Merry have done?

“Save your words for another time; it is too late! The Dark Lord has found it!”

I shook my head in defiance. Frodo had failed? I could not believe that! Surely, it wasn’t so.

But my attention went back to the attendants preparing the Steward and son for their burial.

B2MEM prompt: “It was the possibility of darkness that made the day seem so bright.” Stephen King

Torment through mind and body. Fire and ash swirled in his mind. The Eye was looking for him- he could focus on nothing more.

He would try to focus, but sometimes, his finger would close into his bosom where the cool ring lay, so close to his heart. Put it on. But then, he would retract, concentrating on something else.

“Now, Mr. Frodo, time for another go. Mr. Frodo, here’s some water, food.”

B2MEM prompt: “It was the possibility of darkness that made the day seem so bright.” Stephen King

It all seemed helpless, really. Samwise did not know how they could’ve gone on with no food nor drink, not to mention hope. What was he thinking? He was a ninnyhammer to have chosen this route to die.

He thought of water, of food, but more importantly, where was the end to this foul land? When would they be at the mountain and be done?

The darkness was oppressive, the cold air flowing from Cirith Gorgor was bitter. All of a sudden, Sam saw a glimpse of a star, and hope returned again to his steadfast heart. This darkness was only a passing thing. He was in a tale where heroes would make a difference. The end to his story was one only he could determine.

B2MEM prompt: “It was the possibility of darkness that made the day seem so bright.” Stephen King

All the choices made thus far in life were not her own. She did not choose to be a shield-maiden, did not choose to serve a dotard uncle. She would ride out, take up a sword and fight.

And now, she was without love, without any hope of anyone really appreciating her. Her own kin were all going out to war, and why not she? Why was she left behind?

Her only fear was a cage without renown and to be forgotten forever, no chance of proving her own worth.

He used to enjoy nighttime. Frodo liked gazing at the bright stars in the night sky, enjoyed the calm and peaceful air, to be alone with his book by the fireplace. Falling asleep made him forget about being alone.

He frequently thought of the Mordor dark, the suffocating spider’s lair, the discomforting dark dell of Amon Sul...the dark accentuated all the negatives of the life-changing Quest.

There was no healing. Not in the Shire, not at night even as he fell asleep to rest.

He seemingly strayed into a dream. He had that strange feeling, a knot in his throat, an intuition that his worst nightmare had come true. The nightmare of his unmoving brother bloodied, in the dark, was something awful. He had woken panting and in sweat.

He waded into the shallow river and saw what he dreaded, his own brother’s face, with his sword and cloven horn, deep in slumber or death as he had foreseen?

Grief unimaginable swallowed him whole, and he cursed at himself for not taking the errand instead.

It was a light amidst all the darkness. Some brightness in the night. The chance meeting with a fair lady as Eowyn was beyond his greatest desire in this time of unspeakable grief he had experienced. He had no plans to fall in love but the few days in the Houses of Healing, waiting, anticipating, dreading the news from the battle had made Faramir feel like he had to cherish what was given to him despite the trials and tragedies from the war. There was a lot that he had discerned from the White Lady of Rohan to make him fall in love so fast and unexpectedly. They have much in common.

He had a feeling that his father would not last in the war and when his uncle broke the news to him before he headed out the Black Gate he had felt numb. He had also felt hollow. He did not know how many of his fellow Rangers had fallen in the attempt to retake Osgiliath but he knew it was most and he wept in the Houses of Healing for losing so many that he loved. He dreamt of his brother often. The ache would not abate.

Only when there was news of the King and success of the Quest could he gradually attempt to conduct the tasks at hand to get the city ready for the Return of the King. Keeping himself busy helped him bury his grief. There was a city to get in order after all. He could not allow himself to fall deeper in despair.

Keeping the hope for better times for Gondor. For isn’t what he relied on the past year? These things drove him to put away his grief for the moment to try to do what was necessary for Gondor.

And she looked at him and saw the grave tenderness in his eyes, and yet knew, for she was bred among men of war, that here was one whom no Rider of the Mark would outmatch in battle.” - Steward and the King

I had not sought love or plan for it. But his eyes were gentle, actions tender, and I could not help but feel unwavering pity and concern for him as we started to accompany each other. He wouldn’t assume anything I say, let me talk when I wanted, and we had this silent understanding.

I could not help but fall in love. So when he outfitted me with his mother’s cloak, I did not resist. Our hands touched naturally as we waited. I hadn’t felt comfort and warmth for a long time. Is this what love feels like? Too soon had loved ones been taken from me in life, too soon had I only had to serve and not be taken care of ….like this.

And when the sign came that we were victorious, I can finally give up to my heart and accept Faramir to be the one.

It was futile to retake Osgiliath. Faramir would join Boromir and mother sooner if he fell defending the country he loved. He was weary of days of uncertainty and loss.

Retaking Osgiliath seemed the only thing he could do to earn his father’s respect. But did he even care? He wished for our places to be exchanged.

The horse’s gallop inched him closer to the orcs that swarmed like beetles towards them. Death seemed more promising than a way to force the Enemy’s hand for surrender. Isn’t it better to have death?

We did not see a mad man burn his son alive, a city under siege, a troll crushing you till you could not breathe.

We didn't worry about dwindling energy, a barren wasteland, a master so weak he could barely hold up his head.

The Quest had not happened but now that we have survived, we can live to tell our children of a darker time when hope seemed futile. Now we still live to see a new age, peace under a King.

When his mother was ill, she said that she’ll be all right but that wasn’t the case as he experienced her departure from Middle-earth way too soon.

Boromir had promised he would be back before springtime, to help with the defense of Gondor, to bring word of what his dream may have meant. But on that fateful overcast February day, both he and Denethor had heard the horn that signaled doom.

He had enough of promises that were broken. He just hoped that the King’s promise would usher in better times .

To love you was to heal you of the hurts that this war has caused. Our bond had solidified in the beginning when you told me you lost your mother. I had a similar background of hurts that went deep from childhood. We knew what grief meant and no words can adequately soothe and mend what hollowness lies within when a loved one is taken from the world.

You frequently talk in your nightmares, awaken at night, and I try to use words to calm you. To use gentle herbs to aid in the remaining pain in your shoulder, to keep you present when you feel guilt about your father.

To heal you was to love and care for what the war had taken away from both of us. But better days were ahead and we had to deal with recovery and gradual attainment of happiness together. Our love was deep but not always easy and life would be better to face the obstacles of moving on together. I no longer wanted to be a Shield-maiden; firstly, my main desire was to heal you, to keep you whole, free from guilt and grief, and mine to soothe and stand by.

Author's note: When I first read "Steward and the King", I was wary of love happening that quickly and upon rereading LotR, i find myself drawn to Eowyn and Faramir's falling in love. It was fast but Tolkien did write in one of his letters that courtly love allowed for "falling in love" quicker. Not like modern times when you have more to choose and it's not duty that calls us to wed. And also, Faramir and Eowyn have a lot in common so upon rereading, i find it justified that they're together. :)

I was parched and sweating. It was easy now to slip into the golden circle into a better afterlife. I had never felt so uncomfortably weary and in pain. But somehow somewhere there was still someone familiar calling my name.

The voice was soothing, promising me a better future, one without pain and sorrow, one with hope. There flashed a kindly, kingly face with dark hair, gray eyes. Yes, I have seen him once upon a dream. He called my name in love and respect. He said he needed me by his side to rebuild Gondor.

It was easy to succumb where I could finally rest in peace. But was it not my time? He kept calling my name and seemed sincerely to promise a better life and better time far from pain and despair.Was there still hope for a future without darkness?

It was the King- the dreams had come true. And now I see there is reason for hope. A promise of a new beginning. And i do choose to live even though it was easier to succumb.

"My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?" said Faramir.*** from Houses of Healing, Return of the King

“For thy hope is but ignorance. Go then and labour in healing! Go forth and Fight! Vanity. For a little space you may triumph on the field, for a day. But against the Power that now arises there is no victory.” -The Pyre of Denethor, Return of the King

Denethor knew only despair. He had seen the future and he had heard from Faramir himself on how he sent two halfings to their doom. Did he not know how risky it could be? He ran his strategies in his head more than once and he knew that time was running out.

Now his son burned with fever that would not abate. He was dying and his turn was soon to come. It was only a matter of time that they all perished.

Sometimes when the nightmares were bad, they tried to recount the beauty of the world that they loved instead of focusing on people that they have lost . Sometimes when they woke in fear or sorrow, they would remember they have each other and children to cherish . Sometimes when the flashbacks explicitly came to haunt him, she would try to make him more present, holding his hand tightly .

They eventually learned to turn the page- the Fourth Age would bring more peace and happiness; enjoy what life has to offer through the sacrifices laid down before .

A/N- this came before i went to bed or i was trying to sleep so i wrote it down all in my phone first. It fit a nice 100 words. =)

“I never knew Sam to be so brave. It was so important that he went to Mordor with you,” said PIppin.

“Sam also made sure I drank and ate since the Ring was bearing down on me,” said Frodo quietly.

“It was just my duty,” said Sam with a blush. “Mr. Frodo has had the hardest time after all.”

“He genuinely is the real hero,” said Frodo, looking at Sam with respect and love. “He has grown so much. Frodo couldn’t have done it without Sam.”

“I told you that you couldn’t make it till five of those man sized pints, Pippin.”

Pippin felt nauseous after Aragorn’s wedding celebration. He did have one too many but he couldn’t help himself. His favorite big person had wed, his friends were safe, Frodo and Sam succeeded.

“You had too many as well, admit that you didn’t hold back from those delectable ales, Brandybuck.”

First there was a sign of change when the King appeared and beyond all hope, had pulled me back from the brink of death.

Then there was the fairest maiden I have ever seen giving me a reason to live, to hope. In the Houses of Healing, we learned we had much in common- we have experienced deep sorrow, we were pulled back to life by the same healing hand, we wanted to rebuild the world to suit our lives for a better, hopeful future.

“As Aragorn has begun, so we must go on. We must push Sauron to his last throw. We must call out his hidden strength, so that he shall empty his land. We must march out to meet him at once. “ Gandalf, The Last Debate, RotK

Was there any hope left? We had long abandoned it when our Lord had committed suicide and my nephew hung on in the brink of death until the King had returned to summon him back to the path of recovery.

Pledging to Aragorn to be my liege-lord, Gondor must not now back down in the counsels that Mithrandir had given us. We had to give as much aid as needed to ride to the impregnable Black Gate. Courage was our best defense now.

Our soldiers are weary, but we must prepare them for one last stand to the bitter end.

A/N Written for tolkien100 prompt " Do all plans have to include an element of suicidal risk". Word count does NOT include book quote.

“Until you reveal to me where the One may be found. I may find means to persuade you.” -Saruman, Council of Elrond

Gandalf did not know what was best for him. Time was on our side and our military power was strong. Rohan could not defeat the orcs that I had already prepared. Gondor was beset by enemies east and west. The leaders of Rohan and Gondor were already at their descent.

To seize the moment would be better than to keep on fighting with elves who were leaving, dwarves that were hiding and men who were weak. Was Gandalf blinded by false hope?

A/N- written for tolkien100 challenge "Laugh in Spite", book quote note included in the 100 words.

The Ring speaks to each member of the Fellowship over the course of the journey. I do not believe that the Ring only tempted Boromir but others as well. All characters of the Fellowship is featured.

You cherish Gondor in its old splendor, mighty against the enemy. You can have that and more. White trumpets announcing your return, your father doting and smiling upon Gondor’s finest son. All of your troops at your disposal. We cry “Captain Boromir” and later, “Steward”; we honor and respect you with all your prowess at war, your long foresight into what’s best for your country.

Gondor can be powerful and glorious again. What are you waiting for? You are so strong; he is so weak.

All you request is rest and warmth in this cold, dank place. How you long for breakfast, second breakfast, luncheon and afternoon tea.

Now why shouldn’t you, future Thain of Tookland? Why couldn’t you be the strongest hobbit? Not your cousins, but you, having the strongest hobbit blood, the most cheerful spirit, the one with the wits to see the end.

Claim me and you shall see your larders restored, farmland enriched, without you working a day but just by being your carefree self. You can drink and eat to your hobbit’s delight. Just take me and you shall see.

The need to take care and be strong for others is what you seek. The need to feel important and practical. You can use me to guide, to make sure your cousin is alright through it all. Claim me and you shall see that you can be Master of Buckland easier.

The herbs you seek, the farmlands your parents are in charge of could be yours. Everyone will see how strong and astute you are. Because you are.

You will not be left behind. You will be followed. You can control your destiny and never be in anyone’s shadow again.

Arwen Undomiel is who you desire the most. To be reunited in Rivendell is what your heart has desired all these long, lonely, difficult times. Claim me and you will have her and be the King faster than what trials you have to suffer through now.

Gondor and Rohan will bow to you, you will see the line of Isildur’s kingship restored. The rightful King has succeeded. The strongest, most powerful King has come forth.

And most importantly, finally, your beloved is in your arms. Her blue eyes gaze deep into yours in love. Isn’t that what you desire, Elessar?

Wise Grey-beard did not take me in the Shire, but I’ll aid you when you most need it. You know what lurks in Moria, you know you cannot go through the Redhorn Gate. You need me to help with power that you have not foreseen having, but you are able to brandish.

You have enough strength to wield me, do not underestimate yourself. Vie for power through me.

A dark Lord would not be what you become but instead you will be the most powerful Maia to challenge Him to win. Do you not wish to complete your task sooner?

You can have the most beautiful gardens full of gardenias, lilacs, daffodils, baby’s breath. A giant mature tree outside of your home, greater than the party tree. Look at the gardens you’ve made at your own home? Assistant gardeners flock all over the Shire to help you, greatest gardener of the Third Age. A garden swollen to not one realm, but two or three. Rosie’s eyes sparkle with pride. Even the ol’ Gaffer smiles, well-pleased, “That’s my son.”

Aid your Master in his burden and you can aid in the best way possible. Haven’t you always been Samwise the Stouthearted?

Mining for riches is what your ancestors have done all your life but have you ever thought of wielding me so you can do less digging and more finding such jewels like Mithril? Your race has gone through so much since the First Age, almost destroyed by Aule, being scorned by elves. But you are the richest and most skilled out of all the races.

Take me and restore your father’s fame and fortune and you can find all that your heart’s desire. No race will ever see you to be second class after that.

What is an elf doing with a company of those that are not like you? Why go on this fruitless Quest where only death will come?

You can see forests restored, your folks traveling without fear, singing like your kin did when Melian was strong. Ever did you always want to retain what you had.

Sing beneath the cool forests and behold your race in their former strength and wisdom. Heal your home and behold Mirkwood without shadow and fear. Claim me; there is no stain upon your beloved trees and you can hold onto the past for another age.

Relax in the green pastures of the Shire with a book or two in your hands. Be with Bilbo and your cousins and Sam. Take your meals and smoke your precious pipe-weed.

What you really desire is peace. You are not meant to be in dangerous quests like these. You are not Bilbo. Take me and regain your peaceful existence.

You can lay down long ago, why listen to these half elves, wizards that just want to use you as a vessel. The road will only become more treacherous. And what would be left of you at the very end?

She was alone and didn’t even see that. Who can defend her? Her brother was banished through my own geniuses, her uncle was controlled by Saruman. She was utterly alone.

And I, with my cunning devices, can lead her forth and seduce her. Finally, I could take her for myself. Too long I stared at her golden locks of hair, her slender figure.

Perhaps being Saruman’s servant was better than I thought. I was my own master of Rohan now.

I laughed out loud which I seldom did. Too many people had doubted me but here I am. In control.

It never fitted me either. Boromir was always the solder. They were so alike, he and my father. Proud, stubborn, even, but strong.” - Faramir

“I think you have a strength of a different kind. And one day your father will see it.”- Pippin - ROtK Extended Edition scene

Faramir was touched that the hobbit would already realize something that he had not. He did not think of himself having a different type of strength. All his life, he was told that he had to learn how to wield the sword better, to keep his strength, and focus on defeating the enemy. He was glad that Boromir took the helm with the forces in Osgiliath but soon, he was also forced to lead the Rangers of Ithilien and be adept with the bow and arrow too.

He thought that Pippin was unique as well, very respectable like Frodo and Sam. He admired that he pledged his service to Gondor. He hoped to be acquainted with him in better times after the war.

“You are also a special hobbit,” Faramir replied. “Thank you for your faith in me. I hope that you are right about my father. He is one that is hard to please.”

“Do take good care in the war- we do not want to lose one of Gondor’s finest. Beregond also spoke to me about how influential you are,” said Pippin.

Faramir was touched. “Now, did he?” Faramir always admired Beregond and that he also held him in high esteem.

“We will see where the war will lead us but I do thank you for your confidence. I’ve never met a hobbit till the past two weeks, and you all have a very wise and perceptible nature.”

“I did mean to ask you about Frodo and Sam…” Pippin started. “Do you think they will be alright?”

Faramir frowned, “Yes, but I do fear for the path they elected to take. We will not abandon all hope yet.”

Then, the bell sounded to interrupt their conversation, and they both went back into the Citadel to await the Lord’s order.

The rain did not stop in the Shire after the Battle. It seemed like the skies were mourning for those that have given their lives.

Sam made sure of his ol’ Gaffer, then his thoughts turned to Rosie. Dear Rosie, how she had waited for him, and he offered no explanation!

He was drawn to Rosie’s home by a familiar tune. Rosie was singing their song that memorialized the day they had first met. Joy shone in her eyes when she saw him approach.

“Me too, welcome home.” Embracing tightly, they continued singing in the rain.

A/N - for the tolkien100 challenge "singing in the rain"- Thank you to Grey_wonderer for the character prompt.

Don’t you want the acceptance of your father? The glory of Gondor? It’s no use to be second fiddle- you are a Gondorian, true and honorable, dedicated to your country and your father. You need only bring these hobbits to your father and you will forever be remembered as the Steward’s son that succeeded.

And don’t you like the sound of success? Don’t you desire Gondor to be beautiful with its ancient wisdom and magnificence.

Claim me and you will overpower the enemy, win renown and we will all remember you. Be the best and not fall to second best.

Sam’s strength came from the anger he had acquired from being so utterly betrayed by treacherous Gollum. He did not know what strength he had or if he could match that dreadful beast, he used all his strength to take out her eye, then when she tried to smother him, he was already ready with a knife striking at her age-old hide.

The lights almost went out but saving Frodo took precedence and kept him going at that dark hour.

He almost swooned at the stench of her blood. All lights had gone out; his only thought, free Mr. Frodo.

The dim sounding of the horn of Gondor sent foreboding and dreadful thoughts to Faramir’s consciousness, and both he and his father did not want to state the fear and anxiety they felt about Boromir.

His father closed himself off and Faramir felt himself do the same and resort to his private thoughts when he could desensitize himself from reality. How else could he move on and lead his men in this time of uncertainty, challenge, and stress?

He imagined better days of Gondor at peace, where he could relish in the books of Numenorian poetry and history he loved. And perhaps spend some time in the gardens where he loved to plant. One day, his sword would not be used to kill, rather hung up as a memorial to show his sons and daughters they went through a darker time and now was time of peace to remember the fallen, to remember Gondor in its glory. He would tell them, “Remember Gondor in its might, and the King had returned to deliver our peace.”

But now, he had to face the enemy. Stop your daydreaming. He took a deep breath, and continued to lead, delegate and charge the Enemy.

The white stuff fell from the sky relentlessly. It was peaceful but very cold. Pippin wondered if he could go out and play.

Only Pearl was sympathetic and said, “Maybe when the wind dies down, we will bring you.”

Pippin looked out the window and daydreamed about throwing snowballs at his sisters. That would show them.

The first snow at Emyn Arnen glistened in the early morning light. The morning brought sun to illuminate the previous night of incessant snowfall.

Faramir had not seen such a beautiful sunrise and felt even more blessed with Eowyn, Elboron by his side. Toddler Elboron looked out the window with glee.

They ventured out. The air was chill but crisp, the snow was stainless, they were amused at Elboron’s awe at the snow. He smiled and took some steps gingerly in the snow but when he fell, he did not cry.

Éowyn: The city has fallen silent. There is no warmth left in the sun. It grows so cold.

Faramir: It’s just the damp of the first spring rain. I do not believe this darkness will endure.

Eowyn looked at Faramir hopefully. She did not know why being held close during this dark time was so comforting. Faramir seemed to look better, recovering as the days passed by. There was a shadow but there was also hope. She and this young man shared similarities they could only understand.

After finding each other’s hands and standing close to each other, Faramir was first to speak words of comfort that made her less fearful. Her dreams had been dark as of late. She wonders about the him and what he had lost. Merry had spoken about Boromir to her.

“I am sorry about your brother– we knew Boromir to be a most formidable warrior.” Eowyn tried to offer her condolences.

“Thank you, my lady.” Faramir’s eyes looked deeply grieved at the mention.

“We seem to be no strangers to loss but hope we can see the day when our soldiers return from the Black Gate.”

“I dreamt that we can have a better age despite the loss that we have to endure.”

Eowyn willed herself to believe so, and at that moment, she saw no one but Faramir in her future.

A/N- I always wanted to extend the Extended scene in the movies-- we didn't have enough dialogue thought it was a definite nice addition to the main movie to see how Faramir and Eowyn would fall in love. If PJ had more footage, i would love to see it.

All the signs of the mettare celebration were apparent in Minas Tirith: multi-colored lights, glass balls, wine glasses of different shapes and sizes were at the Winter Ball. Some unknown plant also hung on the ceiling.

Aragorn and Arwen were very glad to see them and were laughing as Faramir and Eowyn approached them.

“It is customary to kiss your true love,” said Aragorn with a smile of delight.

“Gladly would I do this,” Faramir embraced and kissed her tenderly.
A/N- for the Tolkien100 challenge "Under the Mistletoe" Happy Holidays! =)

Frodo felt the first specks of snow fall on his face as the Fellowship attempted to cross the dreaded mountainous road they were to take over the Misty Mountains. The snow relentlessly fell fast and furiously as if intentionally thwarting the Fellowship. Snow falling outside of his warm Bag End with the fireplace burning was what he preferred, but now the snow fell on him, chilling him to the bone.

His cousins and Sam all looked pale, shivering fiercely. Frodo felt great weariness and could not feel his toes or fingers. He already regretted bringing his younger cousins on the Quest. If anything happened to them.

Frodo vaguely recalled Gandalf and Aragorn’s discussing the next course of action. He did not want to give up so soon. There must be a way over the mountain.

Frodo was roused by Boromir. Take heart. Frodo tried to keep his younger cousins and Sam encouraged.

But the snow relentlessly fell and the storm raged on. Even with the Big People carrying the hobbits, it was no use, it was impossible to cross the treacherous mountain.

The signs of Yuletide in the Shire were in full swing.It was the first Yuletide back from the Quest and Sam was eager to spend them with the Cottons, his ol’ Gaffer, and Mr. Frodo. However, Rosie had far more plans with Sam.

“Why are you not spending every second at our place- we haven’t seen you for so long,” said Rosie shyly but assertively.

“Why do you tease me so, Mr. Brandybuck?” Estelle Bolger looked at Merry with disdain.

“My brother was right– you shall be a bachelor for the rest of your long days,” Estelle turned away with a huff.

Merry followed her closely, touched her arm, and whirled her around. “I do not know why you’re angry- I mean well, did you not know?”

Good ol’ rest was what he desired most when he returned to the Shire. But then, the Shire had to recover from the ruffians’ damage, and Sam led the clean up.

It was when Frodo reminded him to take it easy, that he began to do so during Yuletide.

“Make sure to rest, dear Sam. We have gone there and back again,” Frodo said.

Sam looked out into the snow from the warmth of the fireplace, warming his feet as he sipped his tea. He was safe and secure, no longer in fear. He dozed off, only pleasant dreams abound.

Dark dreams had invaded his conscience before Faramir was drawn back to the living by the King. Only rest was demanded for him.

Faramir had no choice but to heed the healers’ orders. He was close to death and wondered by what grace of the Valar had he been rescued.

Sorrow filled his heart. Still, the overwhelming duty to recover won out against reminiscing. There would be a time to mourn further. Faramir wondered if the fortunes for the West could lead to a chance for a hopeful spring.

Snow frosted window panes showed that it was still cold in the January light. It was not yet dawn, but Faramir was awake. It was the first day of the New Year, and it was the year that he would soon wed his beloved. Yet, the weather was still chill and he longed for tuile to come. That had always been his season of choice where the earth was reborn with flowers and the longer days meant there was more to enjoy.

Sunrise ushered in a new day showing that evil had lost and spring would bring hope once again.

The changing of the year did not bring any respite from hunger or the cold. Choosing this path meant hardship and constant fear. Turin had fled Doriath for half a year now and with the outlaws but this meant he had to keep a cynical attitude to show that he had no reservation nor fear.

The frigid snow had fallen again and it seemed to extend towards a bitter spring.

How can he maintain his strength? He had no choice but to seem like he didn’t care.

They told him that his baby sister would no longer play with him, but they did not answer him why, how?

Morwen’s stern face masked her sorrow, and she did not open up to him, sowing seeds of his ingrained melancholy.

When he was sent from Dor-lo-min to Doriath, he asked, “When will you come?”

But she kept a stoic facade, bidding him farewell with just a firm hug and no kiss, for she did not want to show him the bitter tears she kept hidden away.

Turin had kept his frustration for far too long. So when Turin humiliated Saeros and taunted him naked through the forest, he did not care that Saeros leapt to his own death. It was no fault of his that Saeros was so frightened that he would not fight him head-on.

At this turning point, Turin felt his time at Doriath had come to a close. He had to return to his people- he needed to do something with his life.

For all his life, he had been pitied for and protected. Was it not time for him to make a difference?

Turin woke from dark nightmares and pain, and he was frightened of the large figure that stood menacingly towards him.

Fortunately, he took the enemy’s weapon and drew it upon him with stealth and great aim.

But he saw the blond elven hair and the fairest face features belonging to his best friend.

Turin wept till he felt no more tears and felt his heart breaking anew. He could not believe what he just did. Darkness overcame; he knew no more.

Turin did not intend to meet an enemy that was thrice as powerful as him that sowed lies into his head about his family.

His life was full of regrets, as he raced back to his motherland which he should have gone back to a long time ago. Where were Morwen and his sister? Are they all thralls or are they dead?

Every path he took, he returned to familiarity but nothing was recognizable. He hadn’t been there for twenty years.

And with rage and sorrow, he was ready to confront anyone who stood in his way of the truth.

All his life had gone awry and this was the worst realization. Marrying and conceiving a child with his sister was too horrible of a deed for Turin to stomach. He had slain many, done many tasks he regretted, but this was the absolute worst. He felt ill, had no desire to keep living.

He did not feel sorrow or rage or anguish or fear anymore that he had his entire life– only peace it would soon be over .

Perhaps the next life would be kinder to Turum Turumbar, Master of Doom or Doom Mastered.

Long have my people valued secrecy and stealth but now with this powerful Man stepping up and counseling us to strike against the Enemy, we do have a chance to change the fortunes of Elves in Middle-earth. Not all hope is lost.

Tall, dark-haired, most beautiful mortal man I beheld, it was against my heart to fall in love, but i was attracted to the symbol of hope shown so prominently before my eyes.

He was a man we needed in whatever ends Gondor may perish in, ere the ultimate outcome, we needed Lord Faramir for the future.

So when I slew the porter, I was thinking of his larger life at stake pitying Faramir who had no knowledge of being burnt alive. I saw the madness in his father’s eyes building but my eyes were only set on my captain, Faramir.

The halfing was right- i had to save my Lord’s life. He was still the beacon of hope for Gondor no matter what ends we may suffer in.

“”And so they stood on the walls of the City of Gondor, and a great wind rose and blew, and their hair, raven and golden, streamed out mingling in the air. And the Shadow departed, and the Sun was unveiled, and the light leaped forth; and the waters of Anduin shone like silver, and in all the houses of the City men sang for the joy that welled up in their hearts from what source they could not tell.” -RotK "Steward and the King"

Faramir and Eowyn wondered at the new sign, but believed it to be a sign of good- that the Captains of the West had fulfilled their mission in the impossible way. The Ring-bearer had succeeded. And amidst sonorous song that rang through the city, the Great Eagle flew by bearing tidings of hope, and Faramir knew in his heart that Frodo had managed past the Dark Lord to fulfill his Quest. He did not know it but his face was wet from tears and he saw that Eowyn also had tears of joy gathered in her eyes. So many tension filled nights of discussing the Great Wave and Gondor succumbing had now abated.

All of Gondor was alight with song and hope. Faramir and Eowyn continued to embrace each other and Merry and Bergil joined them and laughed and embraced, tears of relief pouring forth. Their loved ones may yet make it. Merry could not wait to be reunited with his kin. It had been too long had he not seen them; he hoped that they were all right. Bergil hoped his father would return from the Black Gate- he was all he had and he needed him to return back alive.

Eowyn still held closely onto Faramir, seeing that his face was kind and throughout the days at the Houses of Healing had felt even more unexplained attachment and trust building. This was a man whom she could trust and seldom had she met a man of quality like this one.

Faramir could feel his initial heaviness lifted if not only a while, but he felt hope for the New Age even though his losses still hung in his consciousness. Hard as it may be, he was meant to guide Gondor with the New King into the New Age.

“It is great to see you on the path of recovery, Frodo. What a path you had which was the darkest one of all,” said Faramir.

“We all had our struggles during the war and I am indebted to all that had distracted Sauron while Sam and I gradually …made it,” said Frodo slowly.

“The honest truth was that we all did not know if the right decisions were made at each turning point,” Faramir sighed. Thoughts about the siege, his father, the death of his brother flashed through his mind, but he turned back to Frodo, “I am glad that you are recovering- let me know if you need anything during this time in Minas Tirith.”

Frodo studied the Steward closely and spoke perceptively, “You need not worry about things that you cannot change. We all have doubted our actions but please be glad we made it.”

“You too, dear hobbit. Do not fault yourself at the end. We are all so glad you and Sam made it back.”

“We live to see another age of Middle-earth, thank you to you and your kind.”

The humidity brought on dampness; soon rain was imminent. Thunder pounded and lightning zig zagged in front of them. Rain was unceasing, dampening spirits of a smooth homecoming.

The hobbits welcomed the change, for the stifling heat made them quite uncomfortable as they kept riding north towards Rivendell and home.

But the rain did not bring solace especially with the surprising encounter with Saruman.

The dampness of the air after the pouring rain only gave slight comfort. It felt suffocating..

Frodo’s heartbeat matched the constant pitter-patter of the rain. The uneasiness that Saruman’s words spoke kept gnawing at his conscience.

After the funeral, heavy rain kept pouring in Rohan. It seemed that the sky too, was mourning the loss of King Theoden.

Eowyn kept thinking about the good times with her uncle and all the caring ways in which Theoden had raised her and Eomer.

She remembered his words, but she could not feel solace. Tears kept pouring from her eyes. Theoden was like a father to her.

Then, she felt someone by her side. It was Faramir. His eyes were gentle, understanding. All he did was hold her at the moment.

A/N- Tribute to Bernard King for his passing in May 2024 and inspired by "Summer Thunderstorms" prompt on tolkien100 on LJ

My Collection of Drabbles by Periantari