Faramir found Frodo the next morning in the study, working away at his writing. “Don’t you wish to go out and get some sunlight, little brother? Our king tells me he still hopes to engage you in a snowball match.”

Frodo looked out the window and saw it was indeed bright out, reflected against the snow. But it did not reach his heart, as much as it tried. He was still imprisoned. “No, I just want to keep writing, to try to get it out of me.”

Faramir knew exactly what his friend meant. He had sat some long nights by the fire, while his wife slept, writing letters to his father and brother, trying to understand, trying to get past the pain. He didn’t let anyone else see those he wrote to his father, though Eowyn had seen one he had left on the table when unexceptedly called away and had grieved at how his gentle soul had been so hurt. The ones he had written to Boromir he let her see and she held him while he wept.

Now looking upon such a kindred spirit to his own, he silently sat down beside Frodo and took him into his arms, holding him as he had been held and slowly rocking him. The Ring-bearer wrapped his arms around him and buried his head in the man’s chest.

He was silent for a while, then spoke again. “There’s nothing left inside me, Faramir, but a dark, empty shell. My heart is buried in the fire.”

Faramir’s heart grieved to hear such pain and stroked his friend’s curls gently. “For a time I felt mine was held in my brother’s funeral boat for he had always been my protector. But now Eowyn holds it, and my King, and even you, little brother. I know your emptiness for I have felt it, but there will be life again in you. Live for all the Shire means to you, the fields and streams and woods, Sam, Merry and Pippin, sunny days, apple picking, strawberries and cream, mushroom pies, and the first snowball fight of the season.”

The Steward thought he could hear the barest hint of cheer in Frodo’s voice at those last words. “I wish you could see it all, but at least you have seen the snow.”

“You have a wonderful world here, my friend. I’m glad it has been preserved in all its glory for you and those who will come after, because you loved it enough to give yourself to save all of us. For I would not have my home and my love beside me either, if you had not offered yourself. We are forever in your debt.”

“You owe me nothing, Faramir. I owe Sam and Smeagol everything. I sometimes wish for the peace of death. I am weary of fighting, so very weary. Each step, each breath seems more of a labor than the last. Would that I could rest.”

Faramir continued his gentle stroking. “My Eowyn wished for that also but she has found peace in life that she had not thought possible, yet she has embraced it and is now more alive than she has ever been. Don’t seek for death, my dear friend. Only those under the dominion of the dark slew themselves. No, Frodo, you were created in the Light, for the Light, to be with the Light.”

“I walk in darkness now.”

“But there still is light around you, dim perhaps to your eyes, but still it’s there, coming from a Source you cannot see. You have seen reflections of it all your life. It shines now brighter than ever. All things work toward the greater glory of the One Who is above all things. Love is stronger than death. Those we have lost are still with us.”

“I wish they were still here where I could see them. I wish they were all still alive.”

“It’s never easy to lose anyone we love for we lose part of ourselves. How my heart howled when my mother died. And though I have few loving memories of my father, my heart has more and it has cried much for both. I wept long after I saw my brother’s funeral boat, all that night I wept, wishing it were only a dream. Long did I watch after it sailed from my sight and the dawn did not bring waking for I had not been asleep. I would have followed his boat the whole way if I could have. But there is already peace there in my heart for him, for I knew he has it. I do not know about my father, but one day, there will be peace in my heart for him also and I will be fully healed. Until then, I must keep going, living, loving and forgiving.”

Frodo was silent a while as he struggled to bring Faramir’s words into his heart and fashion them for himself. He had forgiven everyone freely, except for himself and that was where the knot of pain and shame was so great, he wondered how it could ever be undone. The lust of the Ring still held him bound and he could do nothing but loathe himself for such a terrible desire. “I can see the path that I must tread if I am too heal, but it is narrow and clogged with thorns and brambles and I fear entering. It is under the deep shadows of the trees and doesn’t yet have much of an obvious trail through it. I stand at the beginning of it, but it looks so much more difficult than others I can choose and I don’t know if I have the strength for it.”

Faramir squeezed him tighter. Frodo raised his head to look into the man’s eyes, so full of concern and love. “You will have the strength, mellon nin, because you aren’t alone on it. Sam has always been there and your cousins and they will continue to be and others that love you. I will walk it with you as far as you want me to. I have walked it myself and it does seem very lonely and hard sometimes, but that is the path appointed to me and to you. We will all walk it with you.”

“I would like that very much, because I so feel that I have lost my way.”

“I do not believe that is so, little brother. You have merely come to a fork in the road and you have to decide which direction to take. Your heart knows the way. Take a few steps and find that strength will build for the rest of the journey. Continue on the narrow way and it will become easier.”

That evening, shortly after sunset, Faramir found Frodo standing in the garden. He was facing West. He looked up when the man came up to him with a gentle smile, then around at the garden buried under all the snow and the warm light coming from inside the smial. “For over thirty years this has been my home,” he said softly, “wrapped up in Bilbo’s heart and Sam’s, but it shelters only a body and broken dreams now.” He faced the direction of the Havens once more. “This is the way my paths leads and I will take it, away from home and to home.”

As Frodo told his friend of Arwen’s great gift, the man felt a fresh stab of pain and loss, over those wounds that were still healing, but then he felt a great love and tenderness as he knelt in the snow and wrapped his arms tight around his friend. He remembered the strong being he first encountered in the woods of Ithilien and the light in him that he had marveled to see. The one he held in his arms now was both much more fragile and broken and at the same time stronger than steel, having been tempered by trials that the Steward did not even wish to imagine. The Ring-bearer’s spirit, though gravely wounded, was still alive within him and had not been wholly defeated. His lighter was brighter than ever and Faramir was convinced that his elvish beauty would only grow as his spirit was refreshed by the blessing he had received. The man found he could not grieve long, but only increasingly rejoice for his dear friend and brother.

That night, in a dream that was not a dream, Frodo stood on the far shore again under a bright moon. He was clothed in a silk nightshirt that shimmered in the starlight, the same one he had worn each night since the Lady Este had given it to him. He looked down at the water and the rippling waves that lapped at his feet and saw his distorted, broken reflection there. He clutched the gem around his neck, but he knew it was not for that he was reaching and he wept. Then he felt the presence of another, like to Lady Este, yet unlike. There were tears on her luminous, sorrowful face as well as she approached and somehow he knew they were tears for him and his torment and he grieved that he would have caused another pain. She knelt before him and silently wiped at his tears as he wept all the harder and she wept with him. There were no words spoken between them, yet they exchanged much. The troubled Ring-bearer was held long and consoled in his great grief.  It was in such an embrace that he realized that he need not grieve that another wept for him, but instead received strength to continue on his journey.

The hobbits and Gandalf watched Frodo as he slept that night. His head tossed as he murmured in dreams, clutching at the gem around his neck. Gandalf stood in reverent awe for he sensed the presence of the one who wiped at the tears Frodo shed and wept with him. With her aiding him in his struggles, he knew there was nothing else he could lend that could be better. He bowed to her, then silently ushered the others out of the room.

“What happened to him?” Merry asked. “What really happened to him? He hasn’t really told us and knowing him, he never will.” He looked briefly at Sam, but knew it was futile that the gardener would reveal any secret that his master had not already shared.

“The Ring did all this,” Gandalf said softly.

“Then how can we undo it?” Pippin asked. “And why did you bow again?”

“The damage is done, Pip,” Merry said before Gandalf could answer. His voice was far older and more haunted that any of their kind had ever been. “It can’t be undone. All we can do is just love him as we have always done and hope that will heal him and us.”

“Love will indeed be the only remedy for this,” the Maia agreed softly which is why he was so heartened by the grace of a visit of another that could aid him in his healing.

The hobbits later came back to their brother’s side and snuggled close to him. Frodo was resting more peacefully now. They put their arms across his chest and tried to rest themselves.

A/N: I will be taking my usual Lenten break from writing so this will be the last chapter until after Easter, though you may or may not see other stuff still. I won’t be reading anything either during that time so I look forward to all the catching up I’m going to have to do!