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Till We Have Faces  by Antane

The rain continued the next day, and like in Tom Bombadil’s house, Frodo was glad because it delayed his return to the Mountain of Fire he had never truly left. Without bright sunlight to return to, he knew he would not be strong enough to go back into that fiery chamber where he had lost all that he could define himself as. He was a Ring-bearer without a Ring; he was hobbit, who could never return to the Shire. Who was he beside nothing? Was he anything?

It was past dark before the rain stopped. Bilbo and Boromir both watched as Frodo stood at the threshold of their home. The younger Baggins looked back at his beloved uncle, who nodded with a smile, and a ghost of that traced itself on Frodo’s features. He hugged Bilbo and gave him a kiss to the head. “Good night, Uncle.” He relaxed and stepped outside. Boromir made to follow, but Bilbo stopped him.

“Let him be for a bit. He has come so far, as to not fear the night but to embrace it as he once did. Let us celebrate that.”

“But ’tis no easy weight he carries. Would not a companion lighten the load, especially one of us, who knows more about such a burden than anyone?”

“That you have been that I thank the Powers, but I know my lad. Ever since his parents died so suddenly and he so young, he sometimes just needs to be alone. He will be all right. He is not truly alone, you know, and he never was. Those with such sensitive spirits are more aware of the Powers, I have found. Even in the Shire before the Quest began, he loved to spend time alone staring up at the stars. He was drawn to them in a way that was akin to the Elves, and it took me years living among such beings to fully realize what had struck me the first night I saw him after his birth and many nights afterwards: how much alike his fea was to theirs, while still wrapped up in a hobbit. Only now does Frodo himself begin to comprehend what his heart and spirit responded to all those years, what fed them even more than the Shire did, and what a balm those gentle Powers are to him now, like a peaceful rain bringing a parched land back to life. He is a marvel to anyone who is fortunate enough to realize how they have blessed him, and that is beginning to include himself. Look at him now.”

Boromir did and though he had seen Frodo’s soft glow before, as though moonlight came through him, the wonder was ever new. “I know he fears to enter where the Ring was forged, and where he considers the last bit of himself was burned away. But this is who he truly is, filled with light, is that not true?”

Bilbo smiled brighter. “True indeed. Once he realizes that, he will heal. He does fear to return to that terrible place, and so takes this time, alone but not alone, to strengthen himself to enter it and to leave it as well. He has ever done since his parents died, to discover who he was after who he had been was shattered and to leave that place of pain with a new understanding of himself. He often liked to walk alone as a lad. I think it mostly came from the fact that he was orphaned and so did not know his place anymore in Shire life and being alone helped him discover that. But I wonder if somewhere deep down, he also had a vague feeling of what would be asked of him and so sought to find out more ways to strengthen himself and found walking under starlight the best way to do that.”

“My brother loved to get away from the city at times and just stare up at the stars, as well, or wander in the day and see nothing before him but the woods. He become more that way after our mother died. I do not wonder that he found a kindred heart in Frodo.”

“It is not easy to be separated from him, is it?”

“No, but in some way, I do not feel as though I am.”

Bilbo smiled. “That is one of the Powers’ gifts to you.”

Boromir bowed his head. “They are most gracious to one who does not deserve their kindness.”

“Who among us do, but I have read all the tales. They have ever loved the Children of the One who fashioned them as well. They wish to love and bless you as much as any.”

“As you say. I hope to be worthy of their continued respect.”

“As do we all, but I do not believe it depends on that. Frodo does not feel so, yet he has received their most solicitous care, even now. The torment of the Ring broke him, just as losing his parents, but within he heals. He is slowly becoming aware of that and discovering anew who he is, just as he did on those walks so many years before. I think he also likes to spend some time with the brothers of his heart that he had to leave behind. It is easier to do that in the night when all else is veiled but the stars. You do not see how separate you are, but how close. Perhaps they are looking up too. You might want to try that yourself one night.”

Boromir looked at Bilbo’s welcome smile. He was humbled anew to see such joy and love there. “I shall do that even tonight.”

“Frodo will be gone for some hours yet, I deem. I do not have the strength left to wait up for him. You may if you wish,  but you do not need to. He is perfectly safe.”

Boromir did wait and filled the time reading what Frodo had written so far. After some hours, long after the middle night had passed, Frodo returned inside, Boromir thought the burden his little brother carried seemed not so crushing. The hobbit smiled at him before retiring. Boromir stepped outside, looked up, and spent some time alone with the brother he had left behind.





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