A Guide on the Path

by Mrs. Frodo



Sitting before the single great eye of the computer I contemplate the Ringbearer, and the Ring, and the ring which once bound my soul. Hidden agony too hideous to bear...scars stiffened against the movements of life...ills relentless and threatening...shadows over the sun.... My soul and my right hand dangle limp.

A small warmth slides into the dangling hand. Then it closes, tenderly, solidly around my fingers. I turn my head to look....

For a moment I cannot breathe. Shock and recognition have knocked my breath clean away.

But my fingers know what to do: they close around the smooth little hand.

Pain has been gone from that hand for thousands of years...yet, the feeling of four fingers where five should be awakens mother-instinct. I hold the precious hand very gently.

His bright, clear gaze, the color of an autumn sky, fixes in mine. I am drawn in by the vast, profound wisdom in those eyes...the goodness...the childlike sweetness which long, long ago, ravaged by evil, had vanished. It has returned thousandfold.

After a blissful eternity-instant he smiles––a smile like the sun rising in splendor, rising forever.

"C'mon!" he prompts with a tug on my hand and a bob of his curly head.

How can I not obey? I rise. I take a deep, tremulous breath.

His smile widens. He leads me out, along a path through the grass under a bright sky, down and away.