~ 1 ~

I hadn’t believed I would survive in Mordor. The future had seemed so dark and evil, the best I could wish for was a swift death. I still don’t know if I am alive as I open my eyes. My dreams since passing out on the mountain have been dark, frightening and sometimes confusing. This though… this is different. There are trees above me, and a beautiful blue sky. It smells good, fresh and clean, like I haven’t smelled since our stay in Ithilien with Captain Faramir.

I try to sit up, pushing myself up with my hands, but fall back a moment later, crying out as a sharp pain shoots up my right hand ring finger. I suppose I am not dead after all, I think, almost disappointed.

I feel a hand behind my head and look up to see Aragorn standing by the bed, helping me sit up.

“Welcome back, little one,” he says with a small smile.

I smile back through the pain.

“How do you feel?” he asks, pushing my hair away from my forehead to feel for a fever.

I look down at my hand, then back at him quizzically.

“All right, all right,” he says with a smile. “That was a stupid question. Other than your hand, how do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been sleeping on a rock for the past month I reply as he puts another pillow behind my head.

I glance around and see Sam lying beside me, his face pale and thin, a big bandage wrapped around his head. “Is he all right?” I ask, worriedly.

“As far as I can tell. He has yet to wake up,” Aragorn replies.

“How long have we been sleeping?” I ask, confused, rubbing my face with my left hand.

“Fourteen days,” he says. “We didn’t know if you were still alive when the eagles brought you in. We were all certain no one could have survived the mountain exploding like it did. But once again, hobbits have surprised us.” He smiles now, straightening my curls that had been messed up when he checked my forehead.

“I thought I was dead,” I say quietly. “There didn’t seem to be any other way out…” I leave off, the memories of our last hours in Mordor coming back to me swiftly. I shudder.

“You’re safe now, Frodo,” Aragorn assures me. “You’ve been cut and bruised, and you lost a lot of blood from your finger, but you are safe here.”

I gaze at him in wonder, my mind still dwelling on his statement. “I’m safe…” I repeat, then I laugh.

Aragorn smiles wider and draws me into a gentle hug. “I was so afraid we would lose you,” he says. I can see in his eyes that it grieved him that I had been resistant to his attempts to keep me alive. He had spent many hours, I’m sure, trying to recall me from the edge of death. I had known this, but in the midst of dreams and utter darkness I hadn’t seen any way out, but death. Now that I am awake, and have found myself alive, I wonder if there was another Power at work to keep me here. Aragorn says nothing of this, though. “Merry and Pippin almost couldn’t stand it, they were so worried.”

“Can I see them?” I ask, pulling off my covers, ready to run off and find them.

“Patience,” Aragorn says, pushing me back against the pillows. “They are busy at the moment, but you will see them soon.”

“What about the others?” I ask. “We heard that Boromir died, but we don’t know anything else.”

“Yes, Boromir is dead. The rest of us are fine. Legolas, Gimli and I and…” he leaves off as the curtain to our tent is pushed back and a tall figure in white enters.

For a moment, I am unable to believe my eyes, until he speaks. “Yes, Frodo, I am quite alive,” he says, smiling at me.

“Gandalf!” I cry. “But how? I saw you fall…”

“That is a long story, perhaps for another time.” He comes to my bedside and pats my shoulder gently. “For now, you should sleep more. You’re still weak. I shall sit here with you until Sam wakes. It won’t be much longer, he doesn’t like being too far behind you.”

He smiles at me as I snuggle down under the soft covers once more and close my eyes to sleep.

* * *

I awake to the sound of Sam’s laughter and smile, stretching out as he says something to Gandalf. My mind must still be focusing because I can’t understand what he’s saying until he turns to me.

* “But how’s Mr. Frodo?” he says. “Isn’t it a shame about his poor hand? But I hope he is all right otherwise.”*

I blink and sit up carefully, making sure to be careful of my hand. * “Yes, I am all right otherwise,”* I say, then laugh. * “I fell asleep waiting for you, Sam, you sleepyhead.”*

Sam smiles at me, then reaches for my good hand under the cover.

* “I was awake early this morning, and now it must be nearly noon,” * I explain.

* “ Noon?* Sam looks confused. * “ Noon of what day?” *

* “The fourteenth of the New Year,” * Gandalf says, smiling at us. * “Or, if you like, the eighth day of April in the Shire Reckoning. But in Gondor, the New Year will always now begin upon the Twenty Fifth of March, when Sauron fell, and when you were brought out of the fire to the King. He has tended you, and now he awaits you. You shall eat and drink with him. When you are ready, I will lead you to him.” *

A/N: Quotes in * come from The Return of the King, The Field of Cormallen.

~ 2 ~

“Can you believe we got out of there, Mr. Frodo?” Sam exclaims looking at me in wonder after Gandalf leaves.

I slouch back down into the covers, reveling in their warmth and say, “I almost didn’t at first.” I smile briefly. “I thought I’d died.”

Sam frowns. “Well, you haven’t, and neither have I.”

“And I’m so very glad,” I say with a big smile. Sam looks back at me with a funny grin and I give him a questioning look. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” he says. “I’m just so happy to see you smile again. I didn’t think I’d ever see that again.”

We lay there a moment, smiling at each other, then Sam stirs and says, “We’d best get dressed if the King is waitin’ for us, Mr. Frodo.”

I glance over at our pile of clothing and shudder, seeing the orc things among them. “Do I have to, Sam?” I say. “I want to stay here.” I know it won’t work, but it’s worth a try.

“He’s your King, and he’s going to want to thank you, so you’d best get out of bed,” Sam replies, pulling the covers off and climbing out of the Man sized bed.

I shiver as a cool breeze touches my bare legs, and I pull them up to my chest to cover them in the oversized nightshirt I am wearing.

He comes over to my side of the bed and says, “Now, are you coming, or do I have to carry you down?” He grins at me, and I return the look with a rueful smile.

“You’ve already carried me far enough,” I reply, stretching my legs. “I’ll get down myself.” I look down at the long drop to the floor. “I think,” I add hastily, wondering if Aragorn can get someone to bring us a ladder for future use.

Sam smiles as I clumsily slide down and catches me as I almost topple over on unsteady legs.

“Seems I’ll need more help than I thought,” I reply as a pain shoots up my spine from the impact of my landing.

Sam is instantly concerned. “Don’t over do it, Mr. Frodo. You’ve just recovered from a terrible ordeal.”

My head shoots up at the word “recovered.” My heart leaps at the thought. My troubles are over and I am my own once more.

“Now, you’d best change quickly, Mr. Frodo, the King is waiting for us.” Sam says, handing me the same clothes he handed me back in that horrible tower. I shudder, but accept the clothing, standing staring at them for a moment.

“I know you don’t want to wear those again, Mr. Frodo, but there’s naught else to wear until Mr. Gandalf gets us some proper clothes.”

I nod, changing quickly, standing tense for a moment, the rough orc fabric rubbing against my newly healed skin.

I glance over at Sam, pulling his shirt over his head, and say quietly, “Am I really back? Or is this going to turn into just another nightmare?”

Sam is at my side in an instant. “It’s real,” he insists as I collapse in his arms. “You aren’t dreaming. I’m real, and you’re real, and you can feel me holding you up right now.” As if to emphasize his point, his arms tighten protectively around me and he meets my eyes, seeing the fear and torment I am sure show clearly there.

“You remember in the tower I told you something I said no one else would know but you an’ me?” he says still meeting my eyes.

I nod and he continues.

“I said I wouldn’t never leave you, and I’d pray every day that we was allowed to survive Mordor,” he says.

I smile a little, leaning into him for support.

“Well, I’m not leavin’, and my prayers were answered,” he responds. He kisses the top of my head, and says, “Now get the rest of those things on. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get new clothes.”

“What would your gaffer say if he could see you now, Sam, telling your master what to do?’ I ponder aloud, smiling ruefully at him.

He smiles and blushes. “I reckon he’d be a mite upset,” he says quietly.

“He just wouldn’t understand,” I murmur. “No one back home will understand…”

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asks, not hearing my last statement as I pull the leather jerkin on.

I glance at him then say, “No. Don’t stop. I need it to keep me going,” I assure him, though I can tell he doesn’t understand my full meaning. I grasp his hand in mine, and smile at him as someone knocks on one of the posts of the tent, near the entry.

I drop Sam’s hand, and say, “Come in!”

“Are you ready?” Gandalf asks, entering the tent with a smile.

I nod. “Yes, I suppose we are,” I say, looking down at my clothing, then over at Sam. We both look as though we’d been trampled by a herd of horses, or some such beast.

“Don’t look so uncomfortable, my lad,” Gandalf says. “I’ll get you new clothing soon enough.”

I can’t help but smile back at his teasing look.

“Come,” he says, holding his hand out to me. “Let me lead you to the King.”

Sam looks at me, eyes wide with wonder. I grin.

“It isn’t everyday a hobbit gets to meet a King, is it?” I say to him.

“No, sir, it isn’t!” he replies.

I take Gandalf’s still outstretched hand and we follow him out of the tent.

~ 3 ~

Gandalf leads us towards a wide-open meadow surrounded by tall trees. I hear the sound of a distant stream and smile over at Sam.

“Everything looks so alive and beautiful,” I whisper to him.

“It does, after being so long in that dead land,” he replies. “It’s almost as good as bein’ home again.”

As we near the meadow I see hundreds of soldiers gathered, waiting for us. I have never seen so many Men in my life.

When they see us, they bow, and I hear a trumpet blowing in the distance. I gaze around, beginning to feel quite uncomfortable by all of their attention, feeling ready to bolt any moment and hide somewhere, but Gandalf, sensing my tenseness, puts his hands on my shoulders, urging me forward.

We continue on as they begin praising us in both Westron and Elvish. I feel my face get hot, and I see Sam blushing beside me.

There are three thrones at the end of the field; the one to the right bearing what I recognize as the standard of Rohan, a green background with a white horse; on the left, a standard bearing a silver swan-ship on a sea of midnight blue; and in the center, above the highest throne, the banner of Gondor, the white tree under a silver crown and the seven stars.

In the center throne sits Aragorn, clad in mail with his great sword across his knees. I smile as he meets my gaze and run to meet him, Sam right behind me.

Aragorn rises and I throw my arms around his waist. He smiles and pats my head gently.

“Well, if this isn’t the crown of all!” Sam exclaims. “Strider, or I’m still asleep!”

“Yes, Sam, Strider,” Aragorn says, with a laugh. “It is a long way, is it not, from Bree, where you didn’t like the look of me? A long way for all of us, but yours has been the darkest road.”

Dark indeed, I think. So very dark.

Suddenly, to our surprise, he bows to us, then leads us to sit on the throne, and shouts, “Praise them with great praise!” This they do, so willingly it almost deafens me.

And then a minstrel steps forward and begins a lay he had come up with entitled, “Frodo of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom.” I sink down in my seat a little, trying to make myself as small as possible.

Sam is ecstatic. He’d said just before the eagles came to rescue us that he’d love to hear the tale told, as they had told us the tale of Beren and Luthien in Rivendell.

I smile at him, but as the lay goes on I am beginning to feel sick. I am not sure I like being the subject of a lay. Everything seems somehow grander than it truly was, and it makes me appear as some sort of warrior hero, which I most certainly am not.

Sam notices something is wrong, and grasps my wounded hand in his. “Are you all right, Mr. Frodo?” he whispers.

I nod. “I’ll be fine. I just didn’t feel well all of the sudden. I am all right now.”

Finally the lay is over, and Gandalf comes to retrieve us.

“Come, my friends, I have found you clean clothing to wear,” he says, leading us away to another tent as the host of people disbands and heads elsewhere.

He hands us each a set of well made clothing as we enter the tent. I finger the soft fabric gently, handling it as though it might break any moment and slip through my fingers.

Sam and I change quickly, Sam folding his clothing neatly, I throwing the horrid orc clothing as far from me as possible, then sighing and relaxing in the clean comfortable fabric.

Gandalf picks up the orc things and carefully folds them, placing them on top of Sam’s pile of clothes. He then goes out of the tent for a moment, and returns carrying an armful of swords, mail and elven fabric.

Carefully he lays them out on a nearby table, and I see it is my sword, mithril coat and elven cloak taken from me in the tower.

“Where did you get those?” I ask in wonder, lifting my cloak and hugging it to me.

He hands Sam a coat of mail and his elven cloak, all fixed and clean.

“That is a long story, for another time. Now, you must pit these things on and join Aragorn for the meal,” Gandalf says, lifting a sword belt.

“I do not wish for any sword,” I say, shrinking back from the blade a little.

“Tonight, at least, you should wear one,” Gandalf replies.

I try to protest, but he does not heed me, so I take Sam’s sword. Sam looks at me questioningly.

“Sting I gave to you, Sam,” I explain, looking at the shiny blade.

“No, master! Mr. Bilbo gave it to you, and it goes with his silver coat.”

I glance at the mithril coat, waiting to be put on, then back at Sam.

“He wouldn’t wish anyone else to wear it,” Sam concludes.

I hesitate another moment, then concede. “As you wish,” I say, going to pull the mithril shirt on.

Then Gandalf kneels and gently fastens the belts and swords around our waist, and sets silver circlets over our curls.

“I feel kind of silly in all this fancy clothing,” Sam says as Gandalf leads us back out. “Doesn’t feel natural.”

I smile at him. “I’m sure you don’t have to wear it all the time, dear,” I assure him.

Sam looks at me smiling. “I’m glad. Fits you, though,” he says. “I always said you looked like an Elf to me, and now you really do.”

I feel myself blushing a little.

He grips my hand and says, “I hope there’s something good to eat, I’m hungry.”

A/N: The stars were getting annoying. Some of the dialogue is taken directly from The Return of the King, The Field of Cormallen.

4 ~

I still cannot believe all the happenings of this day! Aragorn is to be king, the land is not covered in darkness, and on top of that my dear cousins are now possibly the tallest hobbits alive.

I glance around sleepily. We are in a grove of some sort. Festivities are going on around us, but us hobbits have found a group of trees to sit against and rest for a while. The other members of our former fellowship are nearby, probably with the future king, but we hobbits wanted to stay here after talking with them for a while.

Merry pats the ground beside him, inviting me to sit there, and I do, leaning against him and yawning.

“You know, it’s not fair you’ve gotten taller than me, Mer. I am still the older, though you may forget it now,” I say teasingly.

He smiles and hugs me to him. “I’m just glad we all made it alive and well!” he says as Pippin curls up on his other side.

Sam comes and sits next to me, still marveling at my cousin’s height. “I’m sure we’ll make sense of it someday, but for now, I just can’t make it out!” he says.

Pippin laughs. “Then just accept it now, and figure it out later.”

The sun is almost gone now, and I scoot closer to Merry as a cool draft of wind touches me gently.

“I think it’s time for bed,” Merry says, indicating Pippin, who had fallen asleep just as soon as he’d said his last words.

I smile, but shake my head. “Let’s stay out a little while longer,” I say. “I want to see the stars again.”

I feel Sam’s hand on my knee, and look over to see him smiling up at the sky.

We move away from the trees a little but, carrying Pippin with us, then lie on our backs, gazing up at the sky as the stars begin to appear one by one.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen a star,” I say, sighing contentedly.

Sam nods, and grips my hand.

“They’re so beautiful,” I state.

The four of us lay in silence for a while, thinking. I feel myself drift off to sleep. I awake a while later to the voices of our friends, feeling myself being carried somewhere. I looked up into Aragorn’s face and he smiles at me as Gandalf says something about bed and sleep, and healing. Gimli is shooing Pippin off to bed as well, so I do not protest as Aragorn carries me half-asleep into our tent and gently lays me in bed.

I feel the bed move as Sam scrambles up beside me.

“Sleep well, little ones,” Aragorn says before leaving us.

I close my eyes again and scoot closer to Sam. He puts his arms around me and says, “Good night, dearest.”

* * *

The next day I wake to the shining warmly on my face. The blankets feel soft and nice against my skin; even the new clothes I received feel comfortable. I hadn’t been awake enough to change last night. The only thing that reminds me of the recent horrors Sam and I experiences is a dull pain in my right hand ring finger.

I look over at Sam, still snoring beside me, then glance to where Gandalf and Aragorn are standing, refolding Sam’s clothes and the orc things before taking them away. I had hoped to burn them, or at least throw them away, but Gandalf said otherwise, and I still cannot understand why.

Aragorn shakes out the hideous orc pants and I notice something shiny fall out of the pocket. I silently climb out of bed and quickly kneel down at their feet, gently picking the gold chain up off the ground. The chain seems hardly touched, other than the spot where I’d broken it to remove the Ring, and the blood marks on it from where it had torn into my neck.

I feel Aragorn’s hand on my back as he kneels beside me. The chain feels remarkably weightless in my hands, so unlike it had when it bore the Ring as well…

“Are you all right, Frodo?” Aragorn asks gently, helping me stand. I realize I am trembling.

I nod, then shake my head. “I don’t know,” I say, frowning. I am not sure what to think.

“Perhaps I’d better take that with the clothes, my lad,” Gandalf says, holding his hand out.

I drop the chain into it, and for a moment I am back at the mountain, watching Gollum falling with the Ring still grasped in his hand.

When I come back to myself I realize I have collapsed into Aragorn’s arms. There is a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, a familiar sense that I instantly recall as the feeling I felt when I realized my parents were gone, never to return.

Now Sam is standing beside me, looking at me worriedly.

I shake my head to clear it, and try to stand upright. I feel Aragorn slip an arm behind my knees to lift me, but I stop him.

“I’m fine,” I say as he stands and puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Come on, Mr. Frodo, let’s get you some breakfast,” Sam says, leading me to a nearby chair that is much too tall for me. “You sit there and I’ll go see about some food.”

~ 5 ~

Today Sam and I wander about, having recognized our location as being very close to where we ran into Faramir in Ithilien.

Aragorn would have followed us the whole day to be sure we were all right, but Gandalf insisted he had other things to do and that Sam and I would be perfectly fine on our own.

We wander the land in silence until we come upon the path.

“Do you remember it, Sam?” I ask, slipping my hand into his.

Sam looks around, then nods. “I remember I saw an oliphaunt that day, and I was so worried after I told Captain Faramir about our business there.”

A brief smile flits across my face at the mention of Sam’s blunder. At the time I had been just as horrified as he that he’d told Faramir. But now it seems almost humorous; Sam getting angry with himself, and me being so terrified I fainted.

“It seems such a long time ago,” I say distantly, trying to shrug off the melancholy feeling creeping up on me.

Sam tightens his grip on my hand and smiles at me encouragingly. We walk for a few minutes more in silence until suddenly we hear a quiet rumble, and Sam chuckles, turning red.

“My stomach’s tellin’ me it’s time for lunch, Mr. Frodo,” he explains, rubbing his stomach.

“We’d best head back to camp, then,” I say, smiling, and starting back up the trail, Sam right behind me.

It seems so normal now for us to walk like this: me in front and Sam behind keeping an eye on me. Suddenly I glance back at him and we laugh softly as he comes to stand beside me.

We reach camp just in time, it seems. Pippin spots us and comes bounding up to us, rather energetically for someone who bore the injuries he said he had. For a moment I am afraid he is going to collapse and break, but he doesn’t.

“Frodo, Sam! You’re just in time!” he exclaims. “We’ve got luncheon waiting for you, and I’m starved!”

We walk back to our tent with him, listening to him chatter about the quality of the food in camp. Apparently his only complaint is their lack of mushrooms.

We enter the tent and find that Aragorn, Gandalf and Merry are waiting for us. I notice that Sam and I have been given smaller rations, as at the feast last night. Aragorn explained to us that we need to allow our bodies to get used to eating more again.

“I wondered when you’d show up!” Merry says from where he is sitting, at the small table they’ve set up for us in the middle of the tent. Aragorn and Gandalf are sitting on the ground near him, and the three of us take our seats at the stools they had managed to find for us and eat.

* * *

After we have eaten, Aragorn takes Sam aside for a few moments, and Merry and Pippin lead me off to their favorite glen.

“What are they talking about?” I ask, gazing after them as they walk in the opposite direction.

“I’m not sure, but we’d best not disturb them,” Merry replies, sitting down under a tree.

I sit next to him, but I notice Pippin groaning when he sinks down to the ground.

“Are you all right, Pip-lad?” I ask, glancing over at him.

He nods, and smiles at me. “I’m still a bit sore,” he says. “I feel like a gaffer and I’m not even of age yet!” he exclaims with a laugh.

I smile. It is so like Pippin to make light of his injuries.

“What of you, Frodo?” Merry asks, gazing at me with those eyes that have always seen right through me.

I shrug. “I’m all right,” I reply, trying to make light of it, and move on.

But Merry doesn’t want to leave it there. “Come on, Frodo, we’re your cousins. I can tell there’s something not quite right still, what is it?”

I glance away, not meeting his gaze. I think for a moment how to answer him. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” I answer, feeling that what he says is true, but unsure what to do about it. “I just need time, I think,” I say, hoping he’ll leave it at that. He does, though I can tell he doesn’t accept my answer.

My stomach is beginning to feel queasy. Maybe I ate too much for lunch…

* * *

I head back to our tent a little while later, lying across the bed, hoping the uneasy feeling will leave if I rest for a while. I close my eyes, and feel myself drifting off to sleep.

I wake when I hear the tent flap open and Sam comes in.

“Mr. Frodo?” he asks, seeing me. He comes up to my side and says, “Are you all right?”

I nod, blinking. “Yes, I’m fine. I just fell asleep.” I rub my eyes, and sit up slowly. My stomach is feeling better, but I am now tired instead.

“Do you want anything, Mr. Frodo?” Sam asks, climbing up to sit on the bed by me.

I gaze at him for a moment, seriously considering his question. “Yes,” I say. “I want you to stop calling me Mr. Frodo,” I reply, a small smile playing about my face.

He looks at me, taken aback for a moment. “What?” he says. “What would I call you, then?”

“Just Frodo. Please, Sam?” I meet his unsure look and smile reassuringly.

“I can try,” he says. “But that’s what I’ve called you since I met you, and it just kind of sticks in my head, see.”

I put an arm around his shoulders and lean against him. “I know.” I smile. “But I also know I’ve always been just Frodo in your heart, and you can’t deny that.”

Sam smiles now, and hugs me. “That I can’t deny,” he says. “Frodo.”

I grin. “See, that wasn’t too hard, was it now?”

He shakes his head, and says, “All right, Frodo it is.”

~ 6 ~

At first I saw nothing and knew nothing, and the nothingness was a welcome relief from the constant torment of the Ring in my mind. Something deep inside me seemed to have said, “Your task is over, the Ring is gone. Go now in peace.” But as luck would have it, there were others who did not wish me gone.

The first thing I remember of consciousness was Aragorn’s voice in my mind, calling my name, calling me back. At first I was too weary to answer unable to find my voice.

And then the dreams started. They were dark and frightening. Dreams of a world shattered beyond repair; dreams of what I might have become had Gollum not taken the Ring from my hand; dreams of what Sauron would have done to me if he had taken me under his power.

I felt to weary to endure this much longer. I felt death close at hand. But Aragorn’s voice was ever more persistent.

I tried to answer, tried to come back, as he wished, but I was not strong enough, and so I looked to my ever nearing inevitable death as the only way out.

I feel Sam’s hand on my shoulder, and pull myself out of my thoughts for the moment.

“Yes, Sam?” I ask, glancing up at him from where I’m sitting on the floor in the tent.

“What’re you doin’ on the floor, Frodo?” he asks.

I shake my head to clear my mind. “I felt like sitting here,” I reply. I glance over at the Man sized bed. “I was getting tired of sitting on something nearly taller than I am,” I add, smiling.

He doesn’t appear convinced. “You all right?” he asks.

“Yes, Sam, I’m fine,” I reply, rising to my feet. “What were you coming in here for?”

“For you,” he replies. “Strider’s free for the moment, and he wanted to go on a walk with us and Merry and Pippin.”

“Oh,” I say, glancing around. “Shall we join them, then?” I smile reassuringly at him.

He smiles back, and nods, leading the way to where Aragorn and my cousins are waiting.

* * *

As we walk, Merry and Pippin take Sam and run ahead, just out of earshot, and Aragorn begins to talk to me quietly.

I know I’ve been set up, but I just frown in the general direction of my cousins and turn my attention to Aragorn, wondering what is so important that he needs to talk to me about.

“Frodo, your cousins have confided in me that they think something is going on with you,” he says, getting straight to the point. “They know you very well, and I trust their judgment. We are sailing for Minas Tirith tomorrow, and I need to know if you think you can make the journey, or if it’s something else bothering you.”

I shrug and shake my head. “I can make the journey. I’m not made of glass,” I say with a smile.

He smiles back, but his smile is partially forced. “What is the matter, little one?” he asks, his smile fading to a loving, concerned frown. I know he can also tell there’s something wrong.

I would tell him, only I am not sure even I know what the problem is.

I try to avoid the question. “I am fine,” I state. “Are we prepared for the trip?” I ask, glancing up at him.

He looks at me concerned, but he acknowledges the fact that I wish to change the subject, and says, “Yes, I believe so. We shall leave at dawn.”

“I cannot wait to see the City,” I say. “Boromir used to talk of it often.”

“Yes,” Aragorn replies with a reminiscent smile. “He did. He loved the city as much as I do. It was a marvelous place before the Dark Tower took over, and I hope to make it such again.”

“I believe you will,” I reply, meeting his eyes. “Though I am sure it will need extensive repairs after my cousins are allowed loose in it!”

We glance ahead to where Sam and Merry are trying to pull Pippin out of a berry bramble he has somehow managed to fall into, and laugh.

* * *

I am standing at the railing of the ship, looking down into the water beneath us. Sam has stayed below deck most of the journey. He says it makes him feel sick to watch the ship move.

I see a shadow behind me and look up to see Legolas standing there. He smiles down at me, and says, “What do you see when you look in the water?”

I shrug, knowing any normal hobbit would think it an odd question. “I am not sure,” I respond. “What do you see?”

He comes to stand by the railing, glancing down at the murky water churned up by the ship. “I see my future, the future of my people, swept away to the sea, the path I will one day follow,” he replies.

I nod, feeling a strange desire to follow his people away, away from everything…

I shake my head to bring my thoughts back to reality. I am a Hobbit, I remind myself. I do not belong across the sea with the Elves. I belong at home, in the Shire.

I look up to see the Elf prince studying me intently. “You feel the sea longing as well, Frodo?” he asks.

“Yes,” I reply. “A little. But I do not belong there.”

“And where do you belong, little one?” he questions, his smile no longer showing.

“I should think in the Shire, at home,” I reply, beginning to feel unsure of myself. “I am a Hobbit. And Hobbits were made to live in the Shire.”

Legolas smiles now. “Well said, Frodo! And I hope you may enjoy that for many long years, my friend. You deserve it, if anyone does.”

I feel my face flush and begin to argue that I don’t, but I am cut off by a man shouting, “The city! We’re nearing the city!”

I look up to see the city of Osgiliath opening before me. It is much damaged, but the Men are doing their best to repair it.

I glance back up at my companion. “What now, Legolas?” I ask.

“We will remain here for one day, and then head on to Minas Tirith,” Legolas replies as my cousins and Sam join us at the railing.

“That’s an awful lot of stone,” Sam observes, staring in awe.

“Wait till you see Minas Tirith, Sam!” Pippin exclaims. “It’s more than four times this big!”

I hear Aragorn’s laugh and look to see him behind us. I have a feeling my dear cousin is exaggerating a little. “Yes, it is much bigger. I can show you from a tower if you’d like. Come, it’s time to leave the ship.”

He escorts us off the ship. I hear Sam mutter, “And good riddance!” once we are on dry land again, and I laugh to myself.

~7~

I have seen it and relived it more than once in my dreams since it happened; I have seen the tower and the orcs and that horrid spider with her many eyes all staring at me maliciously. Even now, though, I am not sure what was real, or what was only my imaginings of that time. Whichever is true, I know now that the thought of a dark tower sends shivers up my spine.

Aragorn has brought us to a tall, run down tower that he says is the best to view the city from. It looks innocent enough, but somehow it feels as though my feet will not allow me to step into it. I take a quick glance at my hands and notice they are trembling.

Aragorn, Merry and Pippin start up the steps and Sam almost follows them, but then he notices that I haven’t moved.

He turns around. “Are you comin’, Frodo?” he asks.

I don’t answer, glancing up at the top of the tower.

“Frodo?” he says a bit louder.

I look at him.

“Are you comin’?” he asks again.

I blink, then say, “Yes, I’m coming. Sorry, Sam.” I follow him through the doorway, though every inch of me is wanting to run the other way.

The tower isn’t as high as I had thought, though the stairs are narrow and slightly steep. There are plenty of windows letting light into it, and I begin to relax when the suffocating, claustrophobic feeling I had felt in the other tower does not come.

“Be cautious of your footing” Aragorn says as he opens a small door to a room beyond. “I am not sure how stable the floor is and there are sure to be boards that may not hold your weight.”

We all follow, a bit concerned for our bodily well being, as we carefully make our way to a small window looking south west.

Before glancing out the window, I look around the room. There are a few holes in the floorboards, leading down to the black emptiness below. There is barely anything in the room, but a broken chair and a water bucket tipped on its side. There is only one window in this room, and after the door is shut behind us, it is mostly in darkness other than the light coming from the little window where my cousins are crowding to see the far off city. Aragorn is telling them some facts about how far it is to the city and how long it will take to get there, and what we will do when we get there.

Now I am beginning to feel suffocated. My head starts to hurt, and I quickly wriggle myself in between my cousins to see the city and breathe the fresh air from outside. Sam, standing beside Merry, looks at me, a bit concerned, but I turn my focus to the city.

At first I don’t see it, and then the sun comes out from behind a cloud and I see the city, far off, among the mountains, gleaming white against the slate grey.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I say quietly.

“It looks more impressive close up,” Pippin says. “It is huge, Frodo! You’ve never seen a place so big!”

I step back to allow Sam to look through the window again, realizing that my headache hasn’t quite gone away yet. I glance at Aragorn as he says something, but his voice now sounds distant. I am suddenly dizzy.

I feel myself swaying, unable to stop, then my world goes dark.

* * *

I wake to find myself safely on the ground, sitting with my head in Aragorn’s lap as he attempts to rouse me.

I glance up at him groggily and say, “What happened?” My head still hurts, though I am no longer dizzy.

“You fainted. You overworked yourself and you didn’t drink enough before going up is my guess,” Aragorn responds. “I am sorry, my friend, I should have thought of your health before going.”

I push myself up and say, “It wasn’t your fault, Aragorn.” I wonder if it really has anything to do with what he said, or if it was something else entirely. A vision of the orc tower flits through my mind and I push it aside, forcing myself to think of something else.

I look around to see that we are sitting on the ground right outside the tower. So I have not been asleep long.

I hear a happy cry, and suddenly Sam is by me, pulling me into a hug, and then Merry and Pippin.

“You worried us there, Frodo,” Merry says, helping me rise to my feet.

We head back to where the rest of our party has made camp, and Merry and Pippin lead us directly towards where we can find something to eat. Aragorn excuses himself after making certain I feel all right, and admonishing me to rest a bit.

I don’t miss the worried look aimed in my direction as he leaves, but pretend not to have noticed as Sam tells me to eat a roll stuffed with a slice of meat and cheese.

* * *

It seems that after my little episode in the tower yesterday, everyone has become more conscious about my health. They are constantly asking if I am all right, or if I need to rest. I am used to this from Sam, but not my cousins. I can only assume they were particularly shaken by seeing me faint for no apparent reason.

I keep telling them that I am fine, and for the most part, I am. We crossed the fields of Pelennor today, and I made it without difficultly. They found a few ponies for us to ride, as the Captains of Gondor were on horseback, and Aragorn wanted us to be able to keep up with them.

Now we have camped just under the city. Pippin was right. It is more impressive up close, nearly too much for a hobbit to take in. It is huge! It might be the tallest tower I have ever seen!

Tomorrow Aragorn will enter that grand city, for all of Gondor and Middle Earth to see that the rightful King has returned!

~8~

Today we rise and dress in our finest clothes, and stand before the walls of Minas Tirith with Aragorn.

He motions for me to come stand at his side as we hobbits, Eomer, Gandalf and Prince Imrahil join him and approach the Gate.

A trumpet sounds and the Gate opens to allow Faramir and five others, four carrying a casket, to come forth and meet Aragorn.

The steward smiles at us, and I can tell he is overjoyed to see us all alive again, though he contains his joy and goes through some long ceremony so that Aragorn is confirmed as rightful king and welcomed into his city.

Faramir hands Aragorn the crown of Gondor from the casket, and Aragorn holds it up, saying the words of Elendil so long ago. “Et Earello Endorenna utulien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn’ ambar metta!”

But he doesn’t put the crown on. He hands it back to Faramir, then looks at me. I look back, curious and confused.

“By the labor and valour of many I have come into my inheritance,” he begins. “In token of this, I would have the Ring-bearer bring the crown to me.”

I freeze. Me?

He gives me an encouraging smile, and continues. “And let Mithrandir set it upon my head, if he will; for he has been the mover of all that has been accomplished and this has been his victory.”

Gandalf steps up and pushes me forward. I reach up and take the crown from Faramir, and bring it to Gandalf.

As I hand it to the wizard, Aragorn meets my gaze and winks at me. I smile back as the beautiful crown is placed on his head.

“Now come the days of the kind,” Gandalf says. “And may they be blessed while the thrones of the Valar endure!”

Aragorn rises from where he is kneeling and the crowd falls silent in awe.

I see, not for the first time, the light shining from my dear friend, only now it is brighter and stronger than ever.

Then Faramir stands and says, “Behold, your King!” The crowd now erupts in rejoicing as the trumpets blast and the King is lead to the Citadel, the rest of us trailing behind him.

We gather around as Aragorn climbs the stairs to take his throne. I smile as we move to the side and Aragorn begins his first order of business as King.

After a while, I notice that many of the people in the audience have come to stare at us hobbits. I glance from the audience to my three companions. We aren’t that different from Men, aside from our height and our feet. Why must they stare as though we are some sort of rare creature?

I wait for a few more minutes, until I find the thought of so many eyes watching me nearly unbearable before I turn to Gandalf, standing just behind me.

“Can we leave, please?” I ask quietly. “I don’t feel well.”

The wizard regards me for a moment, then nods. He motions for Sam and my cousins to follow us, then heads for the door.

Aragorn pauses in the middle of a sentence, and meets Gandalf’s eyes. I see a brief moment of silent communication between them, then Aragorn nods slightly and continues his sentence as though nothing had happened.

“What’s wrong?” Merry asks once we’re in the empty hallway alone.

“Did you notice everyone was staring at us?” I ask quietly.

Merry shrugs. “I s’pose I’m used to it by now,” he remarks. “Hobbits aren’t exactly common in this part of Middle Earth.”

“If it’s any consolation, I think Legolas and the other Elves get much the same treatment,” Pippin responds.

I shake my head. “I don’t know if I could get used to it.”

“Well, come lads, I will show you to your rooms,” Gandalf says, smiling down at us.

* * *

We are led to a suite close to the King’s quarters.

“There are four bed chambers,” Gandalf says. “In case you each want your own room, though I doubt that will be the case.” He smiles.

I smile back. No, it is rather lonely to sleep by oneself in a big and unfamiliar place.

“There is a small kitchen and a patio that leads out to the gardens,” Gandalf finishes before letting us lose to explore. “Your things have already been moved to one of the rooms.”

We look around for a few moments, then Gandalf says, “I must return, but I will have someone come up with lunch for you in a little while.”

“Thank you,” I say before he leaves. As the large door clicks shut, I turn and head for one of the bedrooms. “I think I’m going to take a nap,” I say. “Wake me when lunch comes?”

The three of them smile at me. “All right,” Pippin assures me.

I make my exit quickly, closing the door to the bedroom behind me. But I do not try to sleep. I lay on the bed and close my eyes, but I keep seeing all those people watching me…

I shudder, and pull the pillow under my chin. I turn my thoughts to other things, trying to block out what had made me so upset. I think of the feeling of water underneath the boats that had brought us to Osgiliath. Feeling the waves once again, as though I am there again, I find myself falling into a drowsy sleep.

* * *

When the day is more than half gone, Gandalf returns and informs us that we will be attending a banquet tonight in honor of the crowning of King Elessar.

Merry and Pippin seem thrilled, but I can’t help wishing I could stay here. I smile, and say it sounds lovely, but I don’t really mean it. Sam doesn’t look too sure either.

“Do we have to get all dressed up, Mr. Gandalf?” he asks, straightening his plan brown shirt, one Pippin has unexpectedly outgrown, and therefore given to Sam.

“Just for tonight, Sam-lad,” Gandalf replies.

Sam looks uncomfortable.

“It’ll be fine, Sam,” I assure him. “You’ll look just like the rest of us. It isn’t that bad.”

He shrugs. “I know you’re right, Frodo, but still… My Gaffer never held to folk dressin’ better than they are,” he replies.

I laugh. “Then you’ll be just fine! People will expect you to be “dressed up” as you call it. They expect to see a warrior, Sam!”

He still isn’t convinced, but I know he won’t make any more fuss about it now.

~9~

I had planned earlier to plead tiredness and get away from the banquet early, but now that I am here, I don’t know if that is necessary.

Aragorn seats Sam and I beside him, placing me between them, so I have no fear of any “hero-stuck” stranger sitting beside me. Merry and Pippin are at the far end of the table with Eomer and Prince Imrahil, and seem to be having a lovely time.

When the pages bring out the food, Aragorn leans over to Sam and I, and says, “Eat what you can, but don’t overdo it. I know it’s been a while, but you are still healing.”

We nod, and as we begin eating, the man across the table strikes up a conversation with us about the food where we come from. He does not ask about our journey or what we did in the evil land, or say anything about the war, and for that I am grateful.

By the time the banquet is over, and people are mingling about the palace, talking, I am surprised to discover that I actually enjoyed myself, despite having eaten hardly anything.

Sam and I join Pippin and Merry who are standing with a young boy about a foot taller than they are. They quickly introduce the boy as “Bergil, Pippin’s friend who’s Da is in the guard.”

The boy smiles as Sam and I are introduced, and says, “Pleased to meet you.”

Sam and I respond in kind.

“I’ve told Bergil all about you,” Pippin states, smiling quite innocently.

I raise an eyebrow. “Did you now?” I say, looking at my cousin, who nods. I turn to the boy. “Don’t believe whatever he told you, it’s probably not true.” The boy grins, as though he’s already found this fact out already. I turn back to Pippin. “What did you tell him, Pip?”

“Only what I’ve told anyone else about you,” he responds in a playfully guarded tone.

I smile a little, thinking suddenly of how close I had come to never being annoyed by my Pip again. And for once I have no answer for him.

“Well,” Merry says, seeing Bergil yawn. “I think we’d best send Bergil off to bed, and I have a feeling the four of us need to sleep as well.”

I yawn just as he says this.

And so we say goodnight to Bergil who heads off for his home, and then go find Aragorn and Gandalf to tell them we are headed to our rooms.

On our way to our rooms, I realize that I didn’t see anyone tonight staring at us strangely. I know most of the guests had traveled with us from Osgiliath and Ithilien, but even those who hadn’t, treated us normally. But I am too tired to follow this train of thought tonight.

We reach our rooms and immediately begin figuring out our sleeping arrangements.

“Maybe we should move some blankets and pillows into one of the rooms and three of us could sleep on the floor,” Pippin suggests.

“But then we’d be arguing all night over who sleeps on the bed,” I say, not wanting to get into that tonight.

“But we could take the mattresses off a few of the beds and all sleep on the floor,” Merry says.

“Or we could just use this room,” Sam suggests, popping his head out of the closest doorway. “The bed’s big enough for the four of us.”

“Well, that’s settled,” Pippin states. “How about a quick snack before bed? Aragorn said they stocked the kitchen for us.”

Merry and Sam heartily agree, so Sam and Pippin head off to find us something to eat and Merry and I gather up some extra blankets and pillows and climb up onto the bed to wait for them.

“Tell me about Bergil,” I ask. “How did Pippin meet him? What is he like?”

Merry tells me that Pippin had met him while he had been wandering around Minas Tirith. He tells me as much as he knows about the boy, which isn’t much, until he suddenly stops in mid-sentence and grabs my hand.

“Stop doing that,” he says, looking a little scared, but trying to hide it.

“What?” I ask, not knowing what he means.

“You keep grabbing at your shirt collar. You’ve been doing that for the last four days.” He meets my eyes, and I look at him confused. I was unaware I’d been doing that. “The Ring is gone, Frodo,” he says finally, tightening his grip on my hand when I try to free myself.

I look away, looking at my hands, the right hand ring finger still bandaged and healing.

“I thought you’d stop after a while, but you keep doing it. When you do that it makes me feel as though we’re back on the Quest again with that thing still around your neck.” Now he does look scared, and I don’t know what to tell him. “Why do you do that?” he asks.

Before I can come up with a reasonable answer, Pippin comes into the room and I pull my hand back.

“We’ve found mushrooms!” he exclaims, beaming. “Aragorn left a note that he’d had them imported from some place that has mushrooms, and that there are plenty of them!”

Merry and I smile, our little conversation now completely forgotten, by me at least, as Sam comes in with some mugs and a pitcher of water. Pippin deposits a tray of mushrooms, meat and cheese on the bed covers.

“And they’re good too! I just had to sample them on the way in,” Pippin says, grinning impishly at us.

I am the first one to grab one from the tray, realizing that I haven’t had mushrooms probably since leaving Rivendell.

Before we know it, the tray is empty and we are heading off to bed.

* * *

I wake with a start halfway through the night, wondering what woke me. My heart is thumping in my chest, though if I have been awakened by a nightmare I don’t remember it.

I look to my right and See Pippin curled up under the covers so only his curls are visible. I roll over to face my left, and scoot closer to Sam. He wraps his arms about me in his sleep and I drift back asleep, feeling safe again.

~10~

Our first day in Minas Tirith starts off slowly, sort of relaxed and lazy. I wake late after everyone else, and lie in bed, glad that we don’t have to do anything today if we don’t want to.

My peace is interrupted when Pippin bounds through the door and leaps onto the bed.

“Wake up, Frodo! Sam’s making elevenses and if you don’t hurry and get up you’ll miss it!” he says, grinning at me.

I drag myself out of bed after throwing the deserved pillow in the direction of my cousin, and change into some of Merry’s old clothes that he’d outgrown, then join my friends in the kitchen.

Legolas has joined us this morning; his room and Gimli’s room are just across the hall, next to Gandalf’s, so they intend to be over a lot.

They greet me as I enter.

“Good morning, Frodo!” Legolas calls from his perch on the counter in the kitchen. “I trust you slept well?”

I smile and nod. “I did, actually,” I reply, going to stand by Sam at the woodstove. He smiles at me as I hug him, then turn to join my cousins in their conversation with our visitor.

“But really,” Pippin says. “Where ought we to take them first? After all, there is so much to see in Minas Tirith, and one must try to see it all!”

“I doubt you could see it all in just this visit alone,” Legolas states. “You should ask Faramir to show you around when he has the time.” The Elf is smiling patiently at my cousin.

After a moment of Pippin and Merry discussing where they might take Sam and I, Sam is finished with the meat and potatoes he had been cooking, and I jump up to help him serve it.

“Hobbits have such interesting customs,” Legolas says, glancing over our meal. They had been invited to eat with us, but we knew they would decline, as Elves stomachs are rather small for being such big people.

I seat myself in between Sam and Legolas and begin a conversation with the Elf about his home.

* * *

We find Faramir shortly afterwards, sitting by himself in a garden one level down from ours.

He rises to greet us as we approach.

“Frodo, Samwise, I am glad to see you again!” he says, clearly happy to finally have a chance to talk with us. “I cannot tell you how overjoyed I was when I heard you had survived.”

We smile, returning his small bow. “We are glad to see you as well, Captain Faramir,” I reply.

“What can I do for you?” he asks.

“Can you show us around Minas Tirith?” Pippin asks without any preamble.

A smile breaks out on Faramir’s face before I have a chance to apologize for my cousin’s rudeness.

“I’d be honored to, Peregrin,” he says, bowing to us. “Where would you like to see first?”

Pippin frowns, thinking for a moment, then says, “Anywhere.”

“Well, that certainly narrows down our options,” the Steward says with a laugh. “Perhaps if I take you through the palace first?”

We all agree to this and are soon going on a tour of the royal chambers where Aragorn will be living and the many rooms of the palace. There are many lovely gardens he takes us through, and Sam has to stop and admire each one, pointing out flowers he has never seen before. There are many different varieties that he says do not grow in the Shire, that Faramir tells him are plentiful in Gondor.

We pass through one garden in particular that Faramir stops in for a moment.

“This was my mother’s garden,” he says, gazing over the small patch of well tended plants before us. There is a bench in the middle underneath a tree to shade it, and a small lawn of well tended grass.

“She used to sit out here with Boromir or I, or sometimes both of us, and tell us stories of her homeland,” he says. “She would often come here when she was troubled. She said this spot was soothing to her.”

“It faces West,” I note quietly. “Perhaps that is why?”

Faramir looks at me to explain further.

“West faces the Sea,” I respond. “She was from the Sea, was she not?” I recall Aragorn mentioning that Faramir’s mother was from Dol Amroth on the Sea.

“Yes, she was,” he says, smiling at me. “She often spoke of it. She said it was the most beautiful sight in all of Arda.”

I try to imagine it, but I can’t. I’ve seen the Sea in my dreams, but I can never remember it after I wake. I turn to face west. I cannot see it from here, but I know it is somewhere beyond the plans and mountains, waiting.

“You are probably right, Frodo,” Faramir concludes. “Shall we go on now?” he asks after a moment of silence.

We agree, and continue on our tour.

* * *

Today starts out much like yesterday, only the sky is darkened by clouds when I wake. The others are again awake before me, but this time I get out of bed without any help from Pippin, dress, and go to join them in the kitchen where they are preparing second breakfast.

Pippin smiles at me when he sees me and says, “You made it just in time, Frodo!”

I grin. “Seems I did,” I reply, sitting down at the table. “Do you know what we’re doing today, Pip?”

“Well, I think we’re entertaining ourselves today. Aragorn stopped by and said he’s busy all day long, and Legolas and Gimli were going to join him,” my cousin says.

My mind quickly runs through all sorts of trouble my cousins could get into out of long habit. “Well, we shall see what we can find to do,” I reply hesitantly.

“Come on, Frodo, we won’t get into much trouble,” Merry says, grinning at me. “I can tell what you’re thinking when you look like that.”

I smile. He knows me too well.

I glance up as something starts pattering overhead. For a moment I wonder if there are hundreds of small creatures running about on the stone roof over us, but then I glance outside and see the rain coming down heavily.

I rise and stand at the archway that leads to the balcony and garden, watching the rain pour down.

“I suppose this means we’ll be entertaining ourselves inside today,” Merry comments, turning to Pippin. “Any ideas on how to do that Pip?”

“Perhaps we could play a game?” he suggests, looking to me hopefully. “What do you think of playing hide and seek after breakfast?”

I grin. “We haven’t played that since we were children. Perhaps we should!” Suddenly the thought of playing a child’s game sounds very entertaining, though hide and seek has never been one of my favorites. It is often too hard, as we hobbits are very good at hiding, and not so good at seeking.

“All right, sounds like a good idea to me,” Merry says, and Sam nods.

“I’m not it!” Pippin shouts immediately, grinning at us.

“I say Merry’s it!” I say, and Sam says, “I’m not it either!”

Merry gapes at us. “That’s not fair, I wasn’t even ready!” He glares at us playfully. “All right, I suppose I’ll be it after we’re done with breakfast.”

~11~

Right after breakfast we begin our game. Merry goes to stand in the corner, counting to one hundred, and the rest of us scatter.

Pippin runs down the hall to Legolas and Gimli’s quarters, Sam dashes for the garden atrium in the courtyard beyond, and I hurry to Aragorn’s chambers, hoping to find a wardrobe or chest I can hide in.

As I enter the rooms, I can hear Merry’s voice barely calling, “26, 27, 28,” and I make for the bedroom. I find a doorway in the corner that leads to a crawlspace where I find a few old pieces of furniture, one being an old wooden chest.

I open the lid and slide in, letting it close above me, and then I wait.

After a moment I begin to feel claustrophobic. The dark air begins closing in on me and I know I have to get outside or I’ll suffocate.

My thoughts go to what happened in the tower, and I shudder, suddenly bolting from the chest, and dash down the hallway, nearly running into Merry and Sam and Pippin all standing in the hall.

One look and I know hide and seek is probably not a good idea right now.

“You all right, Frodo?” Merry asks, gazing at me and attempting to smile. “You all make this game so easy, I didn’t even have to seek.”

I smile shakily, then say, “Why don’t we try a different game? One that doesn’t involve hiding.”

“I agree,” Pippin says inching closer to Merry.

* * *

“Maybe they have one in that library Aragorn was telling us about,” Merry says as Sam and I return from the kitchen with second breakfast.

“Have one what?” I ask, wondering what mischief he is up to now.

“I was wondering if they play chess here,” Merry says. “I wanted to know if they have a chess set in the library.”

“Well, you can ask Faramir,” I suggest.

“Faramir’s busy today, Frodo. Why don’t we go look for ourselves?”

I glance at him, then back to Sam and Pippin. What trouble could we possibly cause in the library? And sitting playing chess in a room full of books sounds perfectly harmless to me.

“All right,” I reply. “Let’s go look for the library.”

We find it relatively easily and I am awed by the sight of so many books. It is at least twice the size of the library in Rivendell!

“Well, we’d best not let Frodo in here or we might as well forget about ever seeing him again!” Merry jokes, grinning.

I smile. “Now, Merry, it’s not that dramatic, is it?”

He looks for a moment as though he’s seriously considering this question, but laughs when I glare at him.

“Well, this should keep us occupied for a while,” Sam says. “Chess board or no!”

We spend a while looking around, getting ourselves familiar with the layout of the room. There isn’t a chess board anywhere to be seen, but Pippin and Merry find another strange game that we can’t figure out how to play.

“Perhaps we should wait till Aragorn is free and have him show us how to play,” Pippin says, picking up one of the circular pieces and looking at it curiously.

“Perhaps we should,” I respond, tracing my finger along one of the black triangles on the board. “For now, though, let’s explore the books?” I question, looking at them hopefully.

“All right, we can look at the books now, love,” Sam says, smiling at me as though I’m a child waiting to open his presents at Yule.

I smile at him once more, and then the four of us dash off in different directions.

By the time we get back to our suite, each of us have at least one book that the librarian told us we could borrow.

He was very nice, though he was surprised to see the Ring-bearers in his library. He didn’t make me feel too uncomfortable, just bowed to us and introduced himself as Menegon, the Librarian of the Palace in Minas Tirith. He helped us find books and made us feel quite at home.

Now I am sitting on my bed in the room Sam and I are sharing, tired, but awake enough to read the book I’ve chosen on the history of Gondor.

Sam and my cousins are busy in the other room doing something, but I do not feel energetic enough to join them and Sam nearly ordered me to rest.

Tomorrow Faramir is going to take us to the lower quarters of the city to see the people and the market, and we must be rested for that.

~12~

“Well,” Faramir says, looking bleakly at the clouds. “Looks like we’ll be stuck inside again today.”

I glance up from my stack of books. The History of Gondor volume is open in my lap with a few others I had borrowed scattered around and open to various pages for reference.

“I’m perfectly content to stay right here if we must,” I reply, grabbing up another book and looking at one of the maps of the city.

Faramir smiles at me, then comes to join me on the floor.

“Oh dear,” Pippin moans, flopping himself over the arm of the couch and looking at me upside down. “Don’t tell me you two are going to sit here studying all day long.”

Faramir chuckles at my cousin. “And is there a problem with that, Master Peregrin?” he asks, picking up a very heavy volume I had found. “Perhaps you should join us and see how fun it is.”

Pippin shook his head vigorously. “No thank you. I think I’ll stay right here bemoaning how bored I am.”

“Well, if you wished I could take you someplace else today instead of the lower circles. We could go follow Aragorn about or I could take you other places in the Citadel,” Faramir replies.

“What is Aragorn doing today anyhow?” Merry asks, sitting down next to his cousin.

Before Faramir can answer, Pippin is bouncing up and rushing to his room.

I wonder what has gotten hold of him, until I see him returning with a strange looking box.

“Teach us how to play this,” he suggests, setting the strange game down on the table.

“Did Menegon say you could bring this out of the library, Pip?” I ask, gazing at him for a moment.

“Well, not exactly, but no one was using it and there was dust all over it, and I figured we might as well use it since it was just sitting there anyways,” he replies, looking at me sheepishly.

Faramir smiles. “I haven’t played this in years!” he exclaims.

“What is it?” Merry asks.

“It’s called backgammon. To play it you place these pieces on the triangles and roll the dice to see how many spaces you can move. The goal is to get all your pieces in your slot first,” he tells us.

“That doesn’t sound too hard,” Pippin says. “Let’s play, can we?” he asks.

Faramir shows us how to set up the pieces and explains a few finer points of the game, then he and Pippin begin to play.

I watch for a moment, but my attention is soon lost, and I turn back to my books. Sam and Merry are watching the game intently.

After about half an hour of them playing this game, Pippin shouts triumphantly. “I win!”

I glance up at him, smiling as Faramir shakes his hand.

“Good game, my friend,” he says. “Does anyone else want to play now?” He glances over at me.

“I think I’ll pass. I’m trying to figure this book out,” I say as an excuse. “Let Sam play.”

Sam blushes. I knew he wouldn’t have asked on his own, but he’s always liked playing games like this.

“All right, Sam, let’s see if you can beat me at this game,” Pippin says, grinning mischievously.

“Are you sure you don’t want to play, Frodo?” Faramir asks.

I nod. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Frodo’s never been big on board games,” Merry replies. “He isn’t all that competitive and we usually end up getting annoyed with him not caring whether he wins or loses.”

I chuckle. “It’s not like a game is a matter of life and death,” I reply. “You and Pippin are hard to play with since you act like the world will come crashing to an end if you lose.”

Faramir laughs. “I know what you mean, Frodo. It was always difficult playing games with Boromir, since he was so much more competitive than I am.”

I smile. “Seems like he would be,” I reply.

“Come on, Faramir, tell us if we’re doing this right,” Pippin says suddenly, and Faramir’s attention is taken back to the game.

I laugh to myself, then turn back to my books.