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Gondorian New Year   by Periantari

Chapter 2

“Hmmpph… I deserve all the best dinner foods for this service I gave to you, Frodo,” said Pippin after he had spent the past hour talking about Treebeard and the Ents. “You owe me, Frodo. I cannot believe you’re spending New Year’s still writing your book. We should’ve done something fun,” Pippin pretended to pout with a slight grin on his face.

“Why, this is fun, isn’t it, Pip? I think this is one of the best parts of the journey, save perhaps maybe the baths and stories during our brief time in Crickhollow. I’d rather write about this than anything else,” replied Frodo.

“True, there are far more terrible times to write about. How do you manage, Frodo? I do not think you should think about writing until… until… maybe later after … for a while until you feel better.”

“And how do you know I’m not fine, silly Took?” Frodo tried hard to keep the lively nature of the day and the conversation going.

“I know,” said Pippin simply. “So, how about you come to Buckland to see Merry with me? It’ll be good break from writing and remembering.”

“Maybe.”

“Just maybe? Why?”

“Pip, I don’t want this project to linger that much either. And perhaps not all memories will stay. I mean, I think I need much help from Sam to write the parts in Mordor….” Frodo’s voice trailed.

“See, cousin, you can’t even talk about it that well. Take a rest; don’t worry so much,” recommended Pippin.

Frodo thought back to what happened twelve days ago when he indeed grew ill and had memories flood back to him with great ferocity. He had hardly remembered anything other than feeling darkness and pain try to smother him, and the memories from the time in Cirith Ungol had emerged back to his mind with such aggression that depression and despair had strongly grasped at him, not wanting to let go. The red illuminated heart of Sammath Naur filled his mind with dread, as he saw himself do something that he had not intended to do but in his heart had known he would succumb before the end. It had indeed been a year since he had betrayed Middle-Earth. Frodo involuntarily reached for the Evenstar and it seemed that suddenly the sun had moved into the cloud, shading the day from the brightness it was marked with before. His heart pounded loudly, and he feared everyone would know about the guiltiness he still possessed.

“Frodo? Are you all right?”

Frodo had turned a bit pale and seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts. He kept on rubbing the jewel.

“Frodo? Frodo!”

Frodo turned to Pippin, oblivious to the fact that he had been acting oddly for a while now. Frodo absent-mindedly replied, “I’m sorry I failed…”

“Are you all right? And what do you mean, ‘you failed’? Please tell me what is wrong.” Pippin placed his hand on Frodo’s arm.

“It’s nothing… just… some … darkness,” Frodo stopped, looked away, and said nothing more.

“Darkness? Frodo, tell me,” pleaded Pippin, looking deep into his cousin’s eyes, wrought with such concern and worry that Frodo indeed felt pressured to share his pain with his dear cousin.

“I presume we all still have dark memories to combat…and mine are no less easy to face,” Frodo said slowly and reluctantly.

“Yes, I know that, dear Frodo. Do you want to speak more about it? I think it’ll be better if you did. It’s only fair, Frodo… I did tell you what I still remembered from a year ago. You should share your burdens too,” said Pippin, putting an arm around Frodo’s shoulder.

Frodo trembled but whispered to Pippin, “I’m not sure if you know, but I did not succeed at the end; I really did not…Only Sam knows what happened in the deep of Mount Doom that day, and I still am not comfortable in the truth of the matter.” Frodo paused and looked at Pippin’s confused look, but then continued, “I do not understand the Lay they have about me, for I am not someone that should be sung about. If there was a hero, it should be Sam, for without him, I really would not have gone as far as I had gone.”

Frodo sighed loudly.

“I’m really not as admirable as you think I am, Pip. I did not do anything right for the Quest and gave myself away at the end.”

“Frodo, you did what you could, and that’s all that matters, isn’t it? You were pursuing a most hopeless Quest for what I’ve gathered, and for you to even be willing is something by itself to be proud about. I had not the courage to take the Ring at all,” said Pippin. “Be proud of what you were able to achieve.” Pippin did not want to press what exactly happened at Mount Doom, but he had an idea that Frodo’s missing finger had everything to do with it. Many times in the past year, he and Merry would try to press Sam to tell them the truth, but Sam had declined to tell each time and had insisted that Frodo would tell them too as time went on.

Frodo smiled amidst the heaviness that still weighed in his heart, “I suppose I had no choice in the matter though, dear Pippin. But there really isn’t anything to be proud of or to remember during such a tiring, hopeless Quest.”

“You made it through with us though, Frodo. Please remember that and know that you have some sort of strength to be able to endure. In Minas Tirith, Gandalf told me he thought that you were ‘bronwe athan harthad’, endurance beyond hope… How you maintained so much endurance and resilience in such a Quest is not to be belittled and thought less in importance.” Pippin hugged Frodo fiercely. “I’m glad that you’re alive with me.”

“I am too, Pippin,” Frodo was too touched to say anything. He had never heard the Elvish phrase before, and it was flattering that it came out of Pippin’s mouth, since Pippin knew almost no Elvish. The heaviness in his heart lifted a bit, for he felt indeed quite fortunate to still be among those that he loved. The challenge was how to forgive himself of the guiltiness that he possessed that no one but he could eradicate. If indeed it was even possible.

There were a few minutes of silence as both cousins just cherished the fact that they were alive and still together after all that they had been through. It was almost dusk, and the sun was setting but illuminating red, pink, and orange colors upon the clouds, making a beautiful collage portraying the evening Shire sky. The breeze turned slightly cool, but not enough to make it bitterly cold or uncomfortable.

Frodo broke the silence, ”I guess I’ll come for a bit to Buckland. Sam is hardly here anyway, and I do not feel always right for impeding upon the Cottons. Once Bag End is restored, I will go back, but yes, I should visit Buckland again …till then.”

“Yes! I’m so glad I convinced you! Merry and I were having a bet---”

“What? You hobbits bet whether or not I would come to Buckland?” grinned Frodo. “You should know that I would, eventually.”

“From how Sam described you, we were worried that you would be stubborn in saying ‘no’,” Pippin replied with a smile. “I’m glad you are though. We miss you.”

“I’m glad I am too, Pippin. Now shall we go back home to see what the Cottons have prepared? I’m sure you’re hungry after all that story-telling and such,” said Frodo

Pippin sprang up and exclaimed, “Last one there does not get any dessert!”

“That is hardly fair; do you know how old your cousin Frodo is?” replied Frodo with a grin, as he slowly jogged and followed Pippin back to the Cottons.

“Silly Took, what would I do without you?” Frodo said as they reached the door.

“No… you’ll never be without me; what ever gave you that silly thought?” replied Pippin nonchalantly.

Frodo put his arm on Pippin’s shoulder and replied, “Thanks, Pippin… Thanks for coming to Hobbiton. Happy Gondorian New Year, dear cousin.”

~**fin***~





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