Frodo and Gandalf; After the Ring
by Lothithil
July 11, 3019 (S.R. 1419) after the Fall of Barad-dûr
Gandalf climbed the steps slowly, feeling his age not so much as a
foreboding of a friend's pain. He had been searching all day for the
Ring-bearer, and had met each companion who lingered in the houses in
Minas Tirith that they shared, in these days after the War. None had
seen Frodo, and each had voiced a heartfelt worry about their bravest
and most beloved friend. Gandalf kept looking, finally spotting, with
the aid of the sharp Elven eyes of Legolas, a small figure high above
the Citadel court, on the platform where the beacon of Minas Tirith had
been rebuilt.
What had driven Frodo to this extreme of solitude? Gandalf shook his
head and sighed, levering himself up the last few steps. As painful as
it was for Gandalf to think about, surely that hurt was worse for
Frodo. The Wizard came to help in any way that he might.
Frodo was sitting on the stone bench near the door. Weathered and
traveled beyond the endurance of a normal man, let alone a hobbit, he
nevertheless had no desire to risk the windy height by walking to the
beacon. He was staring out northward, wrapped in his cloak against the
chill. He looked up when Gandalf appeared, but he said nothing. He
scooted over so that Gandalf could sit beside him if he so chose.
Gandalf joined him in silence for a time. In the distance, the Wizard
could see the winking flash of the Falls of Rauros, like a star in the
grey-green distance. The lands between were clear but for the
occasional cloud that drifted below like islands of cotton, looking
almost solid enough to stand on. He pulled his cloak about him. Despite
the strong sunlight on this summer day, the shadow of Mindolluin was
very cold. The stone bench that he sat on was like a block of ice.
Gandalf knew he was intruding, but he did not leave. He sat quietly and
waited for Frodo to speak; to break the barrier of silence and distance
that he had sought. To speak first, Gandalf thought, would be to
overstep himself.
Frodo did speak first. "I am glad you have come, old friend," he said
softly. "I climbed up here to be alone, I had thought, but now you are
here I know that I wished to speak with you."
Gandalf smiled down at him and said, "I would have gladly spoken with
you, Frodo, even without the climb to this remarkable place. It is cold
here, and even three full months are not enough time for wounds to heal
such as you have suffered. I am worried about you."
"I don't feel cold," Frodo answered, but he allowed Gandalf to wrap his
white cloak around him. He leaned against the Wizard as he had done
occasionally as a child, comforted by the warmth and the sound of a
great heart beating within the chest. "Pippin told me about this place.
It sounded beautiful."
After a while, Frodo spoke again. "I came here to be above everything,
to try to see it all from another view. I remember the flight of the
eagles, Gandalf. Everything looked so peaceful, even the violence of
Orodruin, from the height of an eagle's flight. I needed that peace
again."
"What is it you see now that you do not like, Frodo? Changing your
point of veiw is good, but it does not change the nature of the thing
you see."
Frodo did not answer. Gandalf felt him tremble against him. At last,
the hobbit said, "How much of what I see is changed from what it was,
and how much is it that not those around me are different, but it is I
who have been altered? Gandalf..." Frodo stopped and sighed. "Gandalf,
I barely recognize my cousins."
"Meriadoc and Peregrin have been greatly changed by their travels,
Frodo. Both the journey they have endured and the Ent draught that they
drank have made them grow up. Certainly they have become larger, wiser,
and sadder, but they are essencially still the same hobbits that left
the Shire with you. Just this morning, I found Pippin trying to
persuade the Steward of the House of Healing that he must surrender to
him a quantitly of sweet galenas for medicinal purposes!" The Wizard
laughed, and Frodo felt a smile thaw on his face to hear that sound
again.
"Yes, that is our Pippin," Frodo agreed. "And Merry, too. They are
still themselves, and yet they are more. But it grieves me, Gandalf,
that they looks so much older; far older than hobbits their age should
look.
"Why did you argue for them to accompany me on the Quest, Gandalf,
against the council of Lord Elrond?" Frodo said suddenly, and as he
voiced this question that had long burned in his heart, indeed, since
setting out that twilight from Rivendell, Frodo felt a twinge of
resentment against his wise friend, and that grieved him more still.
"Why did you decide that they must endure this hardship. to grow into
what they have become? Gandalf, I know you as well as any hobbit might
know a Wizard, except for Bilbo perhaps, but I cannot understand this.
I would have been happier, knowing they were safe in Rivendell or back
in the Shire. Many times I feared that they would be harmed or even
die; it has been a great pain for me. Why did you let them come?"
Gandalf listened to Frodo speak, a little taken aback by the anger he
heard in the hobbit's voice. But wisdom counseled him to listen and
hear what Frodo was really asking, and to answer that first. "Frodo,
whether your will or mine, your head-strong and courageous cousins
would have endured an adventure this past year, as you would know if
you allowed yourself to set aside blame. You did not bring them from
the Shire; they followed you. Because you were afraid to come alone,
does not make it your fault. There was little choice, after the
Ringwraiths invaded the Shire. Would you have left them to answer the
questioning of the Nazgûl? I thought not."
Frodo began to shiver in earnest as Gandalf spoke of the wraiths. "Yes,
I know what you say is true, Gandalf. Their friendship and support
helped keep me alive after Weathertop." The hobbit touched his own
shoulder gently.
Frodo stood up and paced a few feet away, hazarding a glance down at
the white city that spread in circles seeming before his feet. Three
hundred feet below, the Court of the White Tree gleamed in the sun.
"But they could have stayed in Rivendell." Frodo's voice echoed against
the stone behind him, a weight on Gandalf's ears. "Mighty is their
stubbornness, but mightier is the will of Elrond and Gandalf. Why did
they need to come? Not for my sake, wholly; I do not believe that. Did
you foresee what would happen to them? There is need for them to be
strong, isn't there?" Frodo turned and looked at Gandalf. His eyes were
pleading for comfort, but Gandalf could not give him that and speak
fully the truth.
"Yes, I fear that there is need. Your cousins will someday be leaders
of your people. They will have need of the things they have learned, so
that they can help those simple, carefree hobbits in the Shire and
Buckland understand the lesson that all Men have been taught by this
War: Freedom and Peace are worth fighting and dying for. Hope exists as
long as there is life. And even the small and weak can succeed in all
things."
Frodo's shoulders sagged a little. "I do not feel that I have
succeeded, Gandalf. I am filled with joy to see my friends safe, and I
delight in the clean air and the passing of the Great Danger. But I
feel... I am not..." Frodo broke off, unable to say more. He turned
back toward the north and tears fell from his eyes, coming like rain to
the celebrating city far below.
Gandalf rose and came to stand beside Frodo. "You have not failed,
Frodo. The errand you agreed to perform was done, however the means.
Powers beyond the comprehension of even this Wizard have had a hand in
the completion of this; it is not to be wondered that you feel a little
out-of-sorts."
Frodo's voice was a very small thing. "Is it really done, Gandalf?
Sometimes I wake up in the night, and I can feel the weight of it
again, on my breast or on my finger..." he rubbed his hand absently,
still bandaged and healing. "I keep dreaming that I will wake up and
find it staring at me... a golden eye..."
Gandalf knelt and took Frodo's shoulders in his hands. He looked the
hobbit deep in the eyes and said, "It is destroyed. The Ring is no
more, and never again will it trouble the Peoples of Middle-earth. Only
those who have touched it will continue to be aware of its power; that
is the curse of the One. I wish I could make that go away, Frodo, so
that you are spared this torment. Alas! even I have the same dreams,
and I touched it but once and never wore it."
Frodo sighed and nodded. "At least I know that it will trouble no one
again. That is some comfort. But other dangers are there in the world,
and some lie close to home. That is the purpose of Merry and Pippin's
education, isn't it? You fear that not all is well in the Shire."
Gandalf nodded, and he turned and faced the south, his long eyes
searching through the haze of the distance to the Great Ocean. Seagulls
were flying inland, dancing above the Anduin in flashes of white.
Gandalf felt Frodo take his hand as the hobbit joined him. "I do fear
that the Shire is in need of the heroes of this War, but I do not fear
for those heroes. Healing they will find, as long as they continued to
seek it." Gandalf squeezed Frodo's hand gently. "That includes you,
Baggins."
Frodo stood watching the gulls wheeling. "I'm hungry," he announced.
"Let's go and see if we can find something to eat, and if Merry has
succeeded in obtaining some pipeweed from the Steward of the House of
Healing."
Gandalf allowed Frodo to lead him toward the stair. 'Hobbits!' he said to himself with a smile.
