INTO THE ABYSS

Frodo was barely aware of the conversation around him as he stood on the dark banks and stared as uncles, cousins, and servants of Brandy Hall alike helped pull the drowned, lifeless bodies of his Mum and Da out of the Brandywine River and onto a boat so they could be brought to shore.

He couldn’t breathe; it was as if his entire world had ended. Frodo’s heart was beating so quickly that head felt about to burst with the constant sound of the blood pounding in his ears. The only thing that kept him steady on his feet was the hands of Uncle Rorimac firmly clasped on top of his shoulders. He was cold and felt sick to his stomach. He had never been as frightened before in his life. His parents…

Frodo could stand it no more. In the next moment, he was tearing out of Uncle Rorimac’s grasp and racing down the banks. He had to get a closer look. Perhaps it was a mistake; after all, it was the middle of the night and dark outside… it could be someone else… it had to be... or maybe they were still breathing…

But as Frodo reached the edge and looked down into the abyss that was the cruel Brandywine, he knew there was no hope. Mum and Da both shone ghostly white under the light of the moon. There was no warmth, no life left in their limp bodies. Frodo knew in that moment that he was he could not help his parents. He was a useless bystander as death claimed the lives of those he loved the most. He was all alone.

*******

They had to make haste, had to cross the bridge and get out of this place. First there had been the goblins, but now the Balrog had awoken. They were not safe in Moria.

A cold sweat was on Frodo’s brow as he ran as fast as he could. He must make sure his cousins and Sam were safe. He was fortunate to have so many big folk around; they always looked after all four of the hobbits. However, all was not well. The Balrog was drawing near and would soon capture them unless someone did something.

At first, Gandalf appeared to have defeated the Balrog with all of his great and mysterious powers. But then …

"Gandalf!"

Frodo stood rooted to the spot as he watched Gandalf tumble down, down, down, into the dark abyss from whence there was no return. It was as if all hope had fallen with him. Even with the rest of the fellowship around him, Frodo felt hollow and all alone.

*******

The Ring should have been his! He had fought the battle long and hard before finally succumbing to it powers. He was not going to be denied his prize now at the end!

Although Frodo fought with all of his might, the Ring had given Gollum unnatural strength and will of purpose and Frodo was caught in a desperate fight as Gollum stole the Ring and Frodo’s finger, too.

Frodo fought back, however, and tried to reclaim the Ring for his own, not even paying any attention to whatever Sam was yelling. With one last final effort, Frodo managed to knock Gollum off his feet. But as he watched Gollum fall perilously into the red-hot abyss, Frodo watched helplessly as the precious Ring was also claimed by the fiery river of flame. The ultimate prize had vanished beyond his reach. All that was left was a throbbing pain as he felt his blood rush out from the gap where his finger had been.

He had succumbed to the Ring’s powers and in the end been stripped of everything. Sam spoke to him, but his words held little meaning for Frodo anymore. He was a hollow shell now, a hobbit no more.

As Frodo lay waiting for death upon the rocks surrounded by the fiery river, he mused over what had been his life. He had known some happiness, but his life seemed to be framed by moments where life was thrown over the edge of a mysterious abyss that knew no mercy.

Frodo knew not which had been the hardest to lose. His parents, Gandalf, his very soul … in the end, all had been lost.

A/N - Originally written for Marigold's Challenge #29.

Making Scents of Things

As far as Merry knew, when he had left the Shire with Frodo, Pippin, and Sam on their journey, neither his parents nor any of his family had rushed out to try and find him, not even at the Prancing Pony at Bree.

In Rivendell, Lord Elrond had wanted his presence so much that he made it clear that he would prefer to send Merry and Pippin home.

When in the Mines of Moria, the Balrog and the goblins tried their best to get Merry and the rest of the Company to leave. Not only that, but Gandalf had left their Company.

The Elves of Lothlórien made it clear straight away that they wished Merry and the others had never come there.

And then at Parth Galen, poor Boromir, who had desired to leave Merry, Frodo, and any others intent on the Quest behind, finally did go where none of them could follow.

As if that had not been bad enough, Parth Galen also saw Frodo and (as Merry later found out) Sam leave Merry and Pippin and the rest of the Company behind without a word.

After Merry and Pippin got free of the Orcs, Merry’s reunion with what remained of the Company was short-lived, as Gandalf (who had rejoined the Company in Merry’s absence) soon dashed away along with Pippin, leaving Merry far behind.

Once Gandalf and Pippin had gone, it was not long before Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli abandoned Merry to the Rohirrim whom Merry had just met, leaving Merry all alone with no other hobbits or members of their Company.

So what do the Rohirrim do? After spending just a few days with Merry, Théoden King tells Merry that he must stay behind as the rest of the army rides to Minas Tirith.

But Merry found a way to get to Minas Tirith and help in the battle anyway, though he got injured in the process. But to his immense joy, he had also been reunited with Pippin, and with Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli.

That reunion also did not last long. In just a matter of days, Pippin, Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli all rode away into battle, leaving Merry behind once again, and in a strange city.

As Merry walked the gardens of the Houses of Healing eating some fresh bread that one of the bakers in the Houses of Healing had given him, a sudden thought struck him. He placed the slice of bread down upon his napkin, raised his arm, and smelled.

The unmistakable odors of horse and sweat greeted his nose. It was then that the events since he left the Shire finally clicked together in Merry’s head and made sense: he should have taken a bath months ago.

A/N - A drabble written in honour of the sixty-ninth birthday of the publication of "The Hobbit"

Happy Birthday, "The Hobbit!"

"This way, Professor," said Bilbo, steering the blindfolded Man toward the Party Tree. "We have a surprise for you."

The Man followed.

"Here we are!" exclaimed Bilbo, removing the blindfold. "Happy Birthday, Professor Tolkien! Your book is sixty-nine years old today; not as old as I am, but then your story did help me to reach this age!"

Professor Tolkien grinned. There before him were all of the hobbits, Dwarves, Elves, Wizards, Men, and others he had ever created.

Even Gollum.

"We thanksss you, Professor. For creating the preciousss," said Gollum, straightening the "happy birthday" hat atop his head.