To What Ends?

“I hope so… the very last stroke. But to think that it should fall here, at the very door of bag End! Among all my hopes and fears at least I never expected that.”
~Frodo, The Scouring of the Shire.

The last of the mist dissipated as the hobbits looked at the white, dirty cloak of Saruman’s spirit in disgust. Wordlessly, the hobbits, who had shot down Grima Wormtongue, took the body to burn along with all the dead carcasses of the ruffians. The four travelers gathered outside Bag End and looked out into the polluted and treeless surroundings.

To find his own home to be at the hands of rascally, orc-like ruffians under direction by Saruman was more than Frodo could bear. At his own Bag End, evil had fell to its own doom. As Frodo saw what had come to pass for the corrupted wizard, he felt like unnecessary drama had unfolded quite viciously, unfolding in his own home, and he had been powerless to stop it.

Shaken with grief, anger, shock and weariness of the day’s events, he slowly sank to the ground. There was much to be done with the mess that was caused by the Battle and by the ruffians’ previous looting and destruction. He needed as much strength that he could gather in order to direct the reorganization of the Shire. But at that moment, he wondered to what ends did he accomplish what he set out to do if killing and destruction was right in his own homeland.

“Mr. Frodo, sir? Are you all right?” asked a concerned Sam seeing that Frodo had quietly sank to the ground rushed to his master’s side.

Frodo sat there shaking his head. “So much death…on our own soil. So much wreckage … did we come back home to see this happen to us?”

“Well, we did what we had to do,” said Merry, wiping his sword. “And I agree with you that this sight has crushed my heart too. But the real surprise was that Saruman had the nerve to get into our own land, to pollute the place, making our long journey even longer trying to repair all the wrongs that he and his ruffians did.”

“I cannot believe it either, Frodo,” said Pippin sliding down next to Frodo and putting an arm around his older cousin. “But I’m glad that Saruman is gone and that we came back to make a difference in chasing those orc-like creatures out of here.”

“Gandalf had said that Saruman was able to do some mischief still. I wish we could’ve dealt with him on the road back. I’d have killed him on the spot if I had known he has been intruding upon Shire activities all this time,” declared Merry.

Frodo looked up at Merry with surprise and proclaimed, “Can’t you hear yourself? Revenge ought not be met with revenge. I did not want Saruman to be slain even at the end---“

“But Frodo, he tried to hurt you even towards the end. How can you let him stab you like that, and still say that he did not deserve to die? Do you not remember how many lives he cost in Rohan? Do you not remember that he sought to go after the Ring himself and ended up dragging Pippin and me all throughout the plains of Rohan in the foul company of orcs, being whipped and bruised and tortured for two long days? Did this fallen wizard really deserve a second chance to redeem himself? I think not!” cried Merry.

“I do remember,” replied Frodo in a calmer voice. “I remember many things and I want to remember how things were before as well. Hobbits do not kill in nature and the way Saruman passed -- by the stabbing of his own servant -- says a lot about how many enemies he had made. Maybe he does not deserve life, but as Gandalf once told me, ‘many that live deserve death, and some that die deserve life.’ Can you give it to them, Merry?”

Frodo continued in a steady voice but it was evident he was weary and grieved by the days’ events, “I’m very angered by this and, no doubt, wish this had not happened. Perhaps if we were to look back to how this could have been prevented, then maybe either you or Pippin could have gone back to the Shire after arriving to Rivendell. But obviously, that is not what happened and I’m glad for your company with me …on the Quest.”

Merry and Pippin were silent. Sam broke the tense silence.

“Mr. Frodo, sir… it’s been a long day. I advise that we all go to the Cottons to get something to eat ---“

“No Sam, I need to sort out my thoughts…” And without another word, he went off in the opposite direction from his friends. With his hands in his pockets and a downcast face, he trudged away from Bag End.

~~~~~
Merry looked at Frodo tread wearily in the opposite direction and then looked towards Pippin and Sam and said in frustration, “I don’t understand Frodo. We come back; we fight the ruffians, and he still seems to think that we did wrong or something… Everyone’s upset but we did something, and isn’t that what counts?”

Pippin and Sam didn’t say anything so Merry continued.

“It seems like he’s almost mad at our fighting back to those darn ruffians and---“

“Mr. Merry, we’re all upset, but perhaps he’s upset not at the particular actions, but perhaps he is just really frustrated at the fact that evil has perpetrated even the Shire---“

“I know that, Sam,” Merry cut him off. “We are all upset, but saying that Saruman shouldn’t have died and be left on his own to perhaps instigate even more mischief is more than I could stand. Frodo is too forgiving, too kind, and too easily able to forget sins that Saruman has indeed wrought upon many in Middle-Earth…” Merry continued looking down the path that Frodo had gone down, but Frodo was just a speck in the distance. His words belied his true concern; he was worried about Frodo walking off alone in the state that he was in.

Pippin spoke up, “Well, I’m glad of the aftermath of the Battle—everything will hopefully be getting back to normal now, and that’s what matters, right? But I’m hungry, so let’s go eat.” Despite the unquenchable cheerfulness and optimism Pippin voiced at that time, he was also concerned about Frodo and wished that he had not gone off by himself so suddenly like that.

“No, I think it is best to look for Frodo. You and Sam could go back if you wish, but I’m worried about him even though I don’t quite understand him at times,” replied Merry.

“Then let’s go together,” said Sam. “I’m not leaving my master either, at times like these… maybe stray ruffians are still about for all we know.”

~~~~~
Frodo had walked off because he needed space, needed time to collect his thoughts about the disastrous return home. He had to remember how it once was, how the Shire, his dear homeland, would have felt had it not been sullied and wrecked by Saruman’s ruffians. During the time in his cell in Cirith Ungol, he sought desperately for images of his dear Shire, and now it seemed like what he held so dear to his heart had vanished or never had been how he imagined it. It was a huge blow to his heart and to his desire to know that he went off with the Ring to protect the Shire. This alone he had failed to do as well. And this hurt a lot.

Frodo walked towards the forest. There, weariness claimed him and he sank against the bark of the tree. The last confrontation with Saruman had sapped all energy from him and he did not hesitate as tears started to pour from his eyes. He had meant what he had said to Merry but felt that there was some difference of opinion regarding his role in the Battle of Bywater. By the looks of several hobbits at Bag End, they also clearly portrayed that they were glad Saruman dying was a preferable choice than rather than let him live.

And this angered Frodo.

Hobbits, in nature, did not desire vengeance and were not folks who engaged in combat and in harming others readily. Not since the days of Bandobras Took defeating an Orc-band in the Northfarthing in 1347 had hobbits committed themselves to killing others. In his lifetime, Frodo had never seen such hostile, antagonistic hobbits. The red fury in their eyes when striking down the ruffians and the way in which they continually hacked upon those who were already dead scared Frodo and alarmed him of the extent to which his countrymen had been scarred by the rough treatment they had to endure through this year that he had been gone.

So much had changed. So much death, so many feelings of vengeance and bitterness had arisen from deaths of dear hobbits that everyone knew in some manner. How could it ever be the same? Had the past year’s events and the ultimate battle tarnished all traces of innocence, of inherent, forgiving hobbity nature and tendencies? Had his fellow countrymen learned that they could never fence the outside world out of their sphere of comfort? Could any good come out of all of this?

Was he himself ready to face the reconstruction of the Shire? A once known place to be the world in which he thought he was trying to save. How wrong to think that he could save the Shire.

He couldn’t remember the Shire he loved at Cirith Ungol, and returning to a Shire destroyed, outrageously different than how he imagined it was quite unbearably painful. He could not feel the warm sun-lit grass upon his feet, could not see the Party Tree in which so many good memories of Bilbo had taken place. He could not drink the well-reputable beer of the Golden Perch, could not snuggle up with a good book and sit by his favorite Party Tree, enjoying the simple breeze and the sight of seeing the trees of Bywater all lined up. It did not exist in his memory during those long hours in the dark of his cell; it did not now exist in reality.

He stopped weeping for a moment. He needed this time alone to also reorient his thoughts to imagine how the Shire once had been, what he loved best about the Shire, and what he loved best about his fellow hobbits in order to prepare for all the events that were still going to need to be fixed, solved, and mended before the day was done.

But how could he manage? The past year’s events had required more than his hobbity nature could muster, and he himself had failed at the ultimate task at trying to destroy the One Ring. Could he find the strength now to reconstruct the Shire?

So much reconstruction needed, so many things to be placed back in order. And he felt helpless on how he could begin to gather the strength and resolve.

He was angry with himself, at Saruman, for how things turned out, even though the ruffians and Saruman were gone. He was upset, for nothing had turned out as expected. The unfairness of life.

“Frodo?”

Frodo looked up, startled to see the familiar and very concerned and worried faces of Merry, Pippin and Sam who had indeed followed him. He quickly regained his composure and quickly wiped away his tear-stained face and said softly, “Can’t you allow a hobbit some peace?” But his heart warmed at their obvious care and love for him, even towards the end of the journey.

“Frodo… we followed because we’re worried… about you,” said Pippin.

“Mr. Frodo, no need to grieve and think by yourself on what has to be done. This been a long journey, and I guess it’s just not over yet,” added Sam grimly, putting an arm around his master’s shoulder.

Frodo faced Sam and said, “I couldn’t see the Shire in the last leg of the journey, Sam. I couldn’t see it now. How dear it has been to my heart, and how many nights I had thought about seeing it again, the one thing that kept me going from the waking at Minas Tirith onwards… But not only physically has it been altered, but the hobbits themselves will need much guidance in finding their true nature and finding resilience to go on.”

“They will, Mr. Frodo, they will, and we will also,” replied Sam, comfortingly.

“We have all changed during the journey, Frodo. There is no covering that up. I can never imagine how painful it was during the last part of the journey for you, and I remember having nightmares in the Houses of Healing about you dying and I would be unable to see you again. But we pulled through. The four of us did, and that says something about us. Our fellow countrymen have proved their mettle and resilience too in fighting back in the Battle of Bywater, and I feel like this is a building block to how we might deal with future invasions of the Shire. We can only become stronger by this, not weaker, dear cousin,” said Merry, sitting down next to Frodo.

“You will see the Shire as it once was before, Frodo,” Pippin piped in. “Sam will make sure of that,” as the tween looked meaningful at Sam with a wink in his eyes.

Frodo smiled amidst the tears that still gathered in his eyes. “I’m sure it’ll take a while, but it’s just such a shock, as it is for all of us, but ….”

“No need to explain, Mr. Frodo. It’s hard fo' all of us to come back to this mess and I know it’ll be hard for you especially,” said Sam. “It’s so very unreal, just doesn’t make sense…”

“For it to happen here, but Gandalf did warn us. And I think we did everything in the best way possible. The reconstruction should require the strength of all the hobbits. But in the meantime, I think we should go free those who are imprisoned in the Lockholes. I’m starting to wonder where ole Fatty is,” said Merry, as he helped Frodo up.

Frodo sighed. “Yes, we must also find out what happened to Mayor Whitfoot as well. Thank you, dear friends. I’m glad for your company at this hard time for all of us.”

Frodo hugged all of them together, and only at that time did tears start to come out of all the other hobbits’ eyes, as they were holding back the pain they had felt all throughout the long battle and the adversity they had seen in the once-thought-to-be safe haven of their Shire be wrecked to the point of un-recognizability, and only now, did the real pain hit them with full force.

But they gathered strength from each other too and knew that they could pull through this …together.

~fin~

Thanks to FrodoBaggins_88 for beta-ing! =)