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Changes and Acceptances  by Mirkwoodmaiden

Menelwie's Page-all things LOTR

Chapter 12 - Changes

Frodo sat in his study looking out over the rose garden. He was trying again to work on his book. So much had happen over the last month and a half that he really had not had any time to spare a thought for writing, what with Elanor's Tadaura, their many guests, the birth of little Eldarion. So many welcome distractions. It was bliss being surrounded by those he loved best in the world but this morning he found that he needed a little solitude to work and reflect. He was exhausted from the effort of presenting his best face to all and sundry. Sam was ever at his side, bless him, but there were times. Frodo shook himself from such unworthy thoughts, only to have other thoughts crowd in around them, unbidden. His bout with "Remembrance" this past March had left him more shaken than he had cared to let on and he was weaker in spirit because of it and the continual need to pretend. But even surrounded by his friends and family as he was, he still felt hollow inside and at the mercy of his memories.

He had hoped that seeing all his friends would have help to remind him that he was loved and cared for. That he was still a decent person. Alas it had not. Their love and support only made him feel even more unworthy of such affection. They did not; they could not fathom his shame. He had ultimately failed and in the process of such failure his soul had been fractured. His innocence had been broken and littered upon the filthy ground of his cell in Cirith Ungol. He shut his eyes as if the movement could itself ward off such memories. He was not so lucky. Their voices crowded his mind, as fresh as if it were the present day and he was still in Mordor. "Where is it, little filth!?" and "What have you done with it!" He clamped his hands over his ears trying to stop the voices, but it was impossible. They could and would have their say. "No, please…please no! I don't know. Please stop! NO!" The next sound he heard was a door banging open and scuttering toward him were three or four Orcs. He fell off his chair and scrambled into a corner trying to protect himself as best he could. They'd taken everything from him once and he wanted to stop it from happening again if he could.

He whimpered, "No! Please do not, not again. Don't hurt me!!"

A voice broke his reverie, "Mr. Frodo! It's me, Sam! It's your Sam! I would never hurt you!"

Frodo blinked, and the walls turned from a dark and barren gray to a soft hushed earth tone that was covered by pictures and bookshelves. He turned back to the Orcs and in their place stood Sam, Rosie, Aragorn and Legolas. Sam knelt by him, tears in his eyes and Rosie was just behind him wearing a look of utter concern. Aragorn standing beside and Legolas just behind and both were looking at him, faces full of sorrow and shock.

Frodo realised that he must have called out in his terror, the sound ripping through the serenity of Bag End and immediately felt awash with shame that he had disturbed these good people. As he fumbled for the jewel that hung at his neck, he stuttered an apology, "I-I am so sorry that I have disturbed you. P-Please forgive me." He sat up straight and tried to retrieve the threads of his tortured and frayed dignity.

After making this plea Frodo saw silent tears fall from Legolas' eyes as the Elf looked upon him. Each ripped a fresh hole in Frodo's already rent soul. "Please do not cry, my friend. I am not worth these tears." At this utterance Rosie ran crying from the room.

Sam said with a trembling lower lip, "Come, Mr. Frodo, my dear. Let's get you into bed." He helped Frodo to his feet and Aragorn help him along. Legolas followed shutting the door to the study.

***

Frodo did not emerge from his room for the rest of the day. Rosie brought his food in on a tray and later brought it out almost untouched. Bright tears glistened in her eyes but she refused to shed them as she went about her work. Sam tried to comfort her but she would have none of it.

"Leave her be, Sam," Aragorn said as he got up abruptly to intervene when Sam tried to get her to sit for a minute. Sam whirled and stared at him looking ready to rap out a rejoinder, but then he sighed heavily and simply shrugged his compliance. He stomped outside carrying some pruning shears.

Faramir sat with Eowyn on the overstuffed sofa, her head resting lightly on his shoulder, her eyes clouded by sadness. He looked at Aragorn, "Is there anything we can do? Surely there must be something!" Aragorn looked uncertain and simply shook his head and sat down where Arwen was waiting for him. He put his head in his hands and Arwen rubbed his back trying to relieve some of the gathering tension.

Legolas sat cross-legged on the floor with his hands resting in his lap contemplating what he had seen and heard. It was too horrible to begin imagining and it had caused him to withdraw into himself. He simply sat and stared, oblivious to all around him, until he felt a gentle nudge and then a slight pull on one of his warriors' plaits. He looked up from the piece of tiling that he had been fixating on and saw little Elanor, eyes wide with curiosity, looking at him. She stood right to next him and reached out a finger to trace a fresh tear track down the Elf's face, a tear that Legolas had not realised he'd shed. He looked at the child and became lost in the innocent blue eyes for many moments. At length he smiled at her, and said softly, "Thank you, Gil-dithen nín!" and kissed her on the forehead. Elanor smiled tenuously; then looked at him solemnly and plopped herself into his lap nuzzling her small head into the crook of Legolas' neck sucking her thumb. The Elf threw his arms around her, squeezing a quick hug, "Oh, Gil-dithen lend nin! I know, we are all sad right now." The Elven Prince of Mirkwood sat there rocking the little Hobbit angel back and forth and began singing a little song that he learned as a child about the colours of the leaves of the trees and how each must have their season. The Elf's song wove a gentle spell upon the room's inhabitants and each felt their sorrows lessen, if only for a little while.

***

Sam sat just outside the trellis arch leading to the rose garden staring into space, his pruning shears lying forgotten at his side. His master was in pain again and he felt so completely useless. A shadow crossed him and after a beat or two he looked up and saw Gandalf's tall figure blocking the sun's rays. Looking down his eyes fell on a flowerpot a few feet away and disconsolately noticed something. "That plant needs water."

Gandalf stopped silently regarding Sam to spare a glance for the pot in question. "Yes, it does."
"If I water it then it will be just fine!" Sam vented.

Gandalf turned compassionate eyes upon the young gardener, "That is true."

Sam's face grew darker and more troubled, "But Mr. Frodo isn't going to be fine, is he?"

"No, Sam. He isn't." Gandalf answered quietly.

"It's not fair! Tisn't right I tell you. He tried so hard and he is continually punished!!" Sam scrubbed his eyes to wipe away angry tears. He looked up at Gandalf, "Why? WHY?? He did everything that was asked of him!! WHY MUST HE SUFFER LIKE THIS!!" Sam shouted with all the pent-up anger that he had hiding in his heart. "I DON'T UNDERSTAND!!!"

Gandalf looked upon this simple, loving Hobbit who was so overcome with rage and incomprehension and sighed heavily, "I don't know, Sam. I have no explanations. Except to say that that which we value most often comes at a high price."

Sam glared at him and then relented, "I can't stand to see him suffer."

Gandalf paused but decided after careful thought that Sam needed time to adjust to Frodo's departure. It would be hard for the little gardener to accept at first, but he must. "There is a solution."

That phrase fell upon Sam's heart with a finality that oppressed his very spirit, darkening his eye, "NO! That CANNOT be the only thing for it. There must be another way."

"Sam."

"NO!" but in his heart Sam knew there was no other decision possible, he paused briefly and a small voice pregnant with emotion said, "I know, Mr. Gandalf, I know. I was only trying to avoid it, is all."

"I am so sorry, Sam".

***

Frodo sat upon the coverlet of his bed shamed by the quiet that now blanketed the house. He had caused that quiet with that stupid outburst. The mood of the house of the last few weeks had been one of boisterous contentment. All had bustled about in noisy happiness since Arwen had recovered herself. Voices shouting back and forth planned fishing trips and picnics. Mischief usually followed Merry and Pippin around like a faithful puppy and these past weeks had proven no different; Pippin feeling the back end of Rosie's cooking spoon more than once. The small smile that had grown on his lips from these recollections faded quickly. The house had been full of happy sound, until his screams; until he rent the tranquility of the house. Now unnatural silence hung in the air and those he loved best were beset with worry. Frodo gulped hard, a feeling of disgust and self-loathing began filling him. He did not deserve such good friends; he did not merit such concern, he silently mused miserably. He was not fit to live among such good and honorable people, yet he had not enough courage to set out upon his own as he should, to begin the life of an exile, because in truth he did not want to be alone. He craved company, anything to distract him from his dark reveries. And yet when he was among people he wanted nothing more than to be left on his own. His bouts of "Remembrance" were longer in duration and becoming harder and harder to endure. He felt weighted down by the memory of his failure. The scars were only a physical manifestation of the ever-open wounds his soul had been made to bear.

He fingered the white jewel at his neck, a present from Arwen. He recalled her words, "But in my stead you shall go, Ring-bearer, when the time comes, and if you desire it. If your hurts grieve you still and the memory of your burden is heavy, then you may pass into the West until all your wounds and weariness are healed. But wear this now in memory of Elfstone and Evenstar with whom your life has been woven. When the memory of the fear and the darkness troubles you this will bring you aid."** And until recently it always had.

He never considered leaving the Shire, the thought had been anathema to his very soul. But now Arwen's words were taking on the light of prophecy and what had been previously an unthinkable idea was starting to take root in his mind. He had been fighting for so long, battling the demons that sought corrupt his spirit and turn him into a hollow shell of a person. On most days with great effort he could silence them, but there were times such as this morning when it was nigh on impossible to quell the voices. It was at these times that he felt that there was nowhere for him to go. He could never go back to the person he had been before the accursed ring had come into his possession and the person created during his adventures was in many ways intolerable to whom he had been before. The past was painful and the future had no meaning. He was stuck in a limbo of pretense that he desperately wanted to be shot of, but was afraid of what he might find beyond it. He felt a coward and a burden to those that loved him.

An exhaustion borne of warring self-loathing and doubt crept over him. Tears filled his big blue eyes. Tears that he refused to shed, as if to shed them would bear further witness to his weakness of spirit and only add to his feelings of worthlessness. He was tired of fighting, tired of pretending that he could ever be whole. He could not stay and cause his friends any more worry, he could not be the disruptive presence in this happy house any longer. He cast his eyes about and they took in all the familiar trappings of the room that he had known as home for so long. How he hated the thought of leaving. He much preferred to stay within his quiet little Hobbit hole, nestled within the heart of the Shire, but he now knew that that could no longer be. The Shire would always be in his heart, but he increasingly thought he no longer had the heart to be in the Shire. Too many reminders of whom he had been and what he fought so hard for, only to lose it in the end.

At that moment, a knock came at the door, he called a soft "Come in." In stepped Gandalf, he took one look at Frodo and said a soft solemn voice, "So, you have decided."

Frodo ruefully smiled, "Am I that transparent?"

Gandalf walked towards the bed and sat down beside the troubled Hobbit, "No. No, you are not. But I have been watching and waiting and knew that some time soon you would realise."

Frodo's temper ignited suddenly and with an uncharacteristic white-hot intensity, "Realise what? That my life here is over? Realise that all that I had hoped to achieve has turned to ashes before me? Is that what you planned from the start when you sent me on this errand of yours!" Frodo spun off the bed to face Gandalf. "Is this what you wanted!? I did what was asked of me! And never asked why me? Why not someone else? The more fool me! And what have I received as my reward! Nothing save pain and torment! You've got what you wanted! I am broken, Gandalf! Now leave me alone!"

Gandalf sat on the bed and allowed his dear Hobbit friend to unleash his anger upon him, only his eyes bore testament to the pain that truth, or at least a partial one, was inflicting. Frodo continued to rage, "Well, what explanation have you? ANSWER ME!" came the enraged shout when Gandalf had remained silent. "ANSWER ME!" was again shouted with all the anguish of a tormented soul. As quick as the rage started it subsided leaving only a confused, scared little hobbit who subsequently crumpled to the floor, pouring forth the tears that he had vowed he would not shed.

It was only then that Gandalf moved, to gain the floor and sweeping the sobbing little Hobbit onto his lap. An open door revealed Aragorn and Legolas both faces full of concern as they saw Gandalf holding a sobbing Frodo. Gandalf shook his head as if to say "It's all right, leave us for a few minutes." Aragorn hesitated unwilling to leave Frodo to his pain, but after a further look from Gandalf, he relented and quietly closed the door. At length after Frodo had quelled his tears somewhat, he apologised, "I'm so sorry, Gandalf!" he sobbed into the crook of Gandalf's neck, "I did not mean it! Please forgive me! I don't think I could go on if I thought you hated me for what I just said."

"Shh-Shh! There is nothing to forgive. I did not take any offence," the Maia said as gently as he could. Frodo nodded into the old wizard's beard and hair and sat silently for a few minutes. Then in a small little voice, he said, "I can't stay here any longer, can I?"

Gandalf's heart weighed heavy at that moment, "No, my dear friend. I'm afraid you cannot." Frodo was silent, and perhaps a bit shocked to hear confirmed what he had only begun to suspect himself and he broke his silence with a heartfelt sigh, after which he lapsed back into to silence. There was all at once so much to say and nothing left to comment upon. Frodo knew in his heart this was the only thing for it.

Curiously now that he had admitted this to himself he felt more at peace than he had in a long time. He did not have to pretend that everything was going to be fine. It was one less burden, one less responsibility to worry about. The only painful thing would be to say good-bye. To the Shire and to those that he held so dear. He would not see his little flower bud grow into the beauty that he knew she was bound to be. He would not see little Eldarion grow into the fine young King that he had every confidence he would become. But the Shire and indeed Middle Earth would go on without him. He looked at Gandalf, "Do me a favour? Don't tell Sam. I'll say goodbye but in my own way." Gandalf's eyes were troubled thinking, Sam knows, he just is not completely willing to accept it. He sighed as Frodo looked to him for confirmation of his request. Gandalf could only reluctantly nod. He motioned for Frodo to get up from his lap. Gandalf raised himself with notably creaking of bones, but as soon as he gained the full upright position, he looked down at Frodo, who was now once more sitting upon the bed. "Now you rest up recover your strength, my dear Frodo."

***

Over the next few days the others noticed that Frodo seemed to recover his spirits. In fact he seemed more at peace with himself than he had for a long time. Only Sam seemed a little subdued, pondering what at all might mean. Soon, as Arwen had completely regained herself and was well enough to face the journey back home, it came time for Bag End's guests to leave the cozy little Hobbit hole.

Although quarters had been cramped, especially for the Elves, all seemed reluctant to leave. Rosie stood in the kitchen stirring the stew for the Last Night meal planned for that night. It was decided that in the morning the various parties would start the journey home. Merry and Pippin would probably stay on for a bit longer but Rosie would be sad to see everyone else depart. Over the two months, so much had happened, both sad and happy. She looked over her shoulder into the sitting room and saw Aragorn and Arwen sitting on the overstuffed sofa quietly talking and laughing. She knew that they at last were happy and that gave her heart great joy. Rosie looked back at Eowyn. She had grown particularly close to the Princess of Ithilien, finding her a kindred spirit. She was a strong-minded woman who had a particular zest for life and a good laugh that Rosie taken to immediately. She caught the White Lady of Rohan's eye as she sat peeling potatoes and said, "If they have to leave, at least they will be leaving happy!"

Eowyn followed her eyes and replied, "It is good. I don't think Aragorn would have ever recovered from her passing."

"I am sure he would not have. I was indeed worried for him. But thank the Valar it is well." said Galadriel who sat on the bench shucking more peas, this time with little Elanor's "help." Rosie looked at the Lady ever so gently luminescent in her little Hobbit kitchen and nodded. She had become closer than she would have ever imagined to Galadriel, so awed at first was she. Rosie reflected that had she ever met Galadriel in her home of the Golden Wood she would never even have had the courage to speak to the Lady, let alone become easy around her. But she suspected that Galadriel had sought to make the little she-hobbit comfortable and softened her presence around her. Many good homely times, when worries had not been so prevalent, had been had in the kitchen with the Lady, Eowyn and later Arwen. Rosie would miss those times. She would also miss the both the Lorien and Imladris Elves, they had proven themselves to be bright and merry companions and to her mind had a zest for life and merriment that could almost rival Hobbits.

Many sad moments had the inhabitants of Bag End also endured, but she felt that these hard times had bound the motley collection of Elves, Dwarves, Hobbits and Men into a family of sorts and she had come to care deeply for this strange brood. She surreptitiously wiped a tear from her eye and was thankful when Pippin walked in and came up to the stew pot, spoon at the ready, to try and sneak a taste before supper. She quickly whapped his hand with her cooking spoon sending tiny splatters through the air, some of it landing on Pippin's clean shirt.

"Steady on! I just changed!" Pippin scrapped some of the stew off his shirt, "Mmmm! Tastes good! When do I get the rest of it!" he ended brightly.

"Soon! But you'll get none if you keep sneaking in here, Pippin Took! Honestly, the way you carry on. You'd think you hadn't eaten in a week!"

"Well, I am a growing boy!"

Rosie gave him the gimlet eye and Pippin reckoned another smack with the cooking spoon was in his future if he did not vacate the premises immediately. He left, but not before sneaking a tray of cheese tartlets when Eowyn's back was turned.

A shout of "Pippin, you put that back!" followed him as he ran outside and straight into Frodo who took one look at his little cousin with his mouth full of cheese tartlet, holding the stolen goods, and laughed, "I won't march you straight back in to face Rosie's wrath," he paused, "if you give me one of those tartlet. I'm starving!"

Pippin looked his cousin and quickly complied, handing over one of the gooey little pastries to Frodo. Together they went to seek out any others that were willing to share their purloined bounty. Cheese tartlet found its way into several stomachs that afternoon. Beregond sat munching his portion leaning back on the bank of the stream and said, "I don't think I have eaten so well since… Well, I can't remember. Pity really to be going back."

Faramir said, "Well, Much more of you will be making the journey, that's for sure," as he cast a mischievous glint at the Captain's midsection.

"I think we all are a little more substantial around the midsection." Aragorn offered up, patting his own stomach. "Fayre is by no means meager in Minas Tirith but there's certain dedication to food in the Shire that somehow leaves all tables slightly wanting."

Merry chimed in, "We simply show food and drink the respect they deserve, that is all! A good life and a plentiful table is truly all we Hobbits want in life."

Aragorn laughed heartily and reached over to ruffle the Brandybuck mop top, "May it never be lacking, my dear Meriadoc!"

Gandalf sat, puffed contentedly on his pipe and surveyed his gathered friends. Aragorn had been restored to his rightful place as King of the reunited Gondor and Arnor and had found happiness with Arwen, although that had seemingly taken longer to achieve than the former. Faramir looked happier and more content within himself than he had ever known the young man to be and the Maia knew that Eowyn had much to do with that. Gandalf had always known Faramir to have a quality of loneliness about him and that had disappeared completely over the last few years and for that Gandalf was truly gratefully for he had always held the boy in high affection. Pippin and Merry had grown, not only in stature, but also through their adventures they had gained experience and confidence while amazingly losing very little of their boyish charm and love of mischief. Gandalf chuckled softly to himself.

"You laugh, Gandalf! Tell me why." Gandalf looked to his side at Celeborn sitting cross-legged, sipping from a wine cup and holding the last bits of a purloined cheese tartlet his hand, his robes lying folded on the ground, discarded due to the early summer heat.

Peering at him amusedly, Gandalf replied, "I was just thinking that Hobbits are truly an amazing people."

"That they are, my friend. That they are. So full of the joys of life and yet," the silver-haired Elf Lord looked at Frodo, laughing at something that Pippin had just said, "So willing to risk everything and endure far above what anyone could ask, to save that which they love." Celeborn paused in speech while looking pensively at Frodo. He looked back at Gandalf, eyes a deep gray of comprehension, "Frodo has decided to journey to the Grey Havens, has he not?" Celeborn looked to the Maia to see him either confirm or deny it.

Gandalf returned the look, "Yes," he replied quietly, "he has. But he has not as yet told any here. Although Sam realises what will be shall be."

Celeborn glanced at the little gardener who did appear somewhat more subdued than the others. He felt compassion for the Hobbit; he knew what it was to lose a dearly loved someone to the calling of the West. A shadow of sorrow grew over his own heart and Celeborn cast his eyes downward and Gandalf saw his face change from one of merriment and delight to one of sadness and resignation, "It is well and is as it should be," the Lord of Light said at length. Gandalf detected a small catch in the Elf Lord's voice and could feel his deep sorrow and loss. He knew not what to say in the face of such restrained emotion so he sat in silence, waiting for the love of Galadriel's life to collect himself.

Celeborn looked up and Gandalf noted that his eyes were full of resignation and painful acceptance. He smiled graciously at Gandalf, "It is well. When do you plan on the journey?"

"Probably sometime in the autumn."

Celeborn was saved from reply as at that moment, Rosie came up behind them to announce dinner.
"Not that any of you are wasting away from lack of food," Rosie said with a certain asperity, casting an eye upon the tray that now contained only the smallest crumbs as evidence of the purloined cheese tartlets, "but Dinner is to be served up as soon as you get yourself to the dining table."

To nobody's surprise Pippin and Merry were the first to react and were already making a beeline from the stream to the front door of Bag End. The rest followed at an amused and somewhat more dignified pace. Soon everyone was surrounding the table and the food and drink flowed freely as did the laughter and storytelling. All did their level best to ignore the fact that tomorrow they would part.

Elanor's giggle could be heard above all and she seemed to spend most of her time traveling between the laps of Legolas and Frodo. Towards the end of the meal she sat on Legolas' lap eating a custard tartlet and generously although albeit a bit messily offered up half to the Wood Elf. "Thank you, Gil-dithen nín!" Legolas exclaimed as he extracted the bit of tart before it ended up in his hair. After popping the tart crumbles into his mouth and licking his fingers clean, Legolas hugged the little blond she-hobbit saying, "Oh Gil-dithen nín! Whatever I am going to do without you. I will be positively bereft." At this the blond child giggled and continued to eat her tartlet.

Frodo laughed and said, "Legolas, you certainly have a way with women." He then stood up and decided to make a toast, "I just wanted to say thank you to all my friends who have gathered here these last few weeks. Have a swift and safe journey home. I love you all very much." Frodo voice caught at that moment and he left unvoiced the thought that burned his heart. And shall miss you all very much. He looked at Sam who at that moment was studying the table with great interest. Oh Sam! thought Frodo, You most of all! I wish you could understand. In a clear voice he then raised his mug and said "To good friends and a fine table set!"

****************

** = Direct quote from either the book or screenplay.





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