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The Trial of Frodo Baggins  by Gentle Hobbit

Disclaimer: All the characters and settings belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. This story is my way of working out ideas and concepts already present in The Lord of the Rings. This is done for enjoyment, and for sharing, but not for profit.

Author's note: This is my first attempt at posting fanfiction. I have had this idea for some time but have been dithering over whether or not to try to write a story around it. I love Frodo-centred fiction, especially when it is written with care and feeling. I just hope that I may do some justice to this piece. I also hope that readers might want to leave reviews--I can only benefit from constructive criticism from such creative authors as I have seen here.

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Chapter 12: The Judgement

Merry looked in cautiously. A healer (the Warden? Merry briefly wondered) had just left Frodo's room a moment ago. Inside, all was quiet.

The window was open, and the sun shone warmly upon the stonework. Frodo was lying on the bed in the shadows, a damp cloth over his forehead. His eyes were closed.

A chair was next to the bed, placed there, perhaps, by the healer that had just left. Merry quietly sat upon it and watched Frodo sleeping. Gandalf had told him that Frodo had had a difficult time at the trial that day. Indeed, Frodo slept as if utterly exhausted. There was no distress evident in his face, but nor was there peace.

Merry watched him closely, and it seemed suddenly to him that Frodo's face was no longer familiar. The features were the same, certainly, but Merry felt as if there were years of care and worry, and pain, laid over them like a veil that had settled, and then molded itself to the very skin -- a veil which lay between them.

Cautiously, Merry touched the face with the backs of his fingers. The skin was warm, and he felt comforted. His fingers told him, even if his eyes were unsure, that it was his cousin, loved and familiar from days of old, who lay before him.

He was not sure how much time had passed, as he sat there watching, when the first hint of trouble appeared. It was the softest of sounds that alerted Merry, a gentle murmur that caught his attention. But it wasn't until Frodo's breathing altered its rhythm, and his forehead creased under the folded cloth, that Merry felt a sense of unease.

He moved from the chair to the bed, and waited. Frodo cried out then, and Merry leaned over him. "Wake up, Frodo," he said. "Wake up." He took Frodo's hand.

Merry didn't know what it was that roused his cousin -- whether it was his words, or the touch of his hand -- but Frodo sat up so abruptly that Merry was almost knocked off the bed. He did not fall, for Frodo clutched at him in his fright.

"It was just a dream," Merry said. But Frodo did not let him go. And so Merry put his arms around him, as if Frodo was a small hobbit-child in need of protection from night-terrors.

"It was just a dream," he said. "Perhaps if you told me about it..."

Frodo's breathing slowed, but Merry could feel, through the cotton of their clothing, the quick beating of his heart.

Frodo shook his head mutely, and then all energy left him. He slumped, and Merry had to resettle quickly if he were not to fall over. Frodo was limp in his arms, his head heavy on Merry's shoulder.

"You had better lie back down," Merry said. As if that were a signal, Frodo seemed suddenly to become aware of his position, and he hurriedly drew back. Merry felt a slight pang of disappointment.

But Frodo allowed himself to be laid back down on the bed. He had been sweating, and so Merry took the cloth that had fallen between them and gently cleaned Frodo's face.

"I think you should tell me about the dream," Merry said.

Frodo closed his eyes. "It was just a dream. I'd rather not talk about it."

"I think you should," Merry said bluntly. He rubbed his right arm, wincing slightly.

"Does it ache?" Frodo asked, suddenly distressed.

"Only sometimes," Merry answered hastily, "and it is improving. It is not like it was! The memories are worse. Don't worry about me, Frodo! It has been a bother, but it will be fine."

"The memories are worse? I had never thought," Frodo said reflectively, "that you might still be troubled by them -- but Lady Eowyn said that it might be so. I have found it difficult to think of others lately."

"You have been rather pre-occupied," Merry said, but he smiled to take any sting from his words. "If a mildly aching arm is what I get from all of this, then I believe that I've been quite lucky."

"I don't like to think," said Frodo, with some intensity, "that any one else should have to endure such horror. Least of all, you."

Merry turned away then. He found it difficult to speak. But Frodo's voice continued, more softly behind him. "If you should ever want to talk about it, what happened, I will listen. I will understand."

"I know you will," Merry said thickly. "And that is why I have never wanted to talk to you about it." He turned back again to see Frodo gazing at him, eyes a little too bright. "And I certainly shan't talk about it to you now! Not today. But," and here his voice dropped a little, "one day, perhaps. When we both can talk to each other, freely."

Frodo smiled then, weakly, but gratefully. "One day then." He closed his eyes.

Very gently, Merry removed the cloth from Frodo's forehead and dipped it in the bowl of water which stood on the bed-side table. He wrung it out and then replaced it.

"Do you have a headache?" he asked.

Frodo's eyes remained closed. "I do. A little," he said. "But I suspect that the healers were more concerned with calming me down." He shifted a little, self-consciously. "I was... not myself when Gandalf brought me back."

Merry frowned. "How much longer must you go through this? I am not sure that this is doing you any good."

Frodo sat up abruptly then. The cloth fell over his eyes and he impatiently snatched it away. "It isn't about what's good for me, Merry! It is what must be done."

"All right!" protested Merry, alarmed. "All right!" He put his hands on Frodo's shoulders. "I don't want to upset you."

Frodo visibly pulled himself together, and allowed Merry to push him back down. "I suppose the healers were right," he said, "to treat me as if I am ill. I can't imagine what you must be thinking of me right now."

"What I think is that I want to be there tomorrow," Merry said, tightly. "I feel as if I'm losing you, we all do, and I'm afraid. Far more afraid of that than any bad memories I might have of the Witch King! I want to understand, Frodo, and this way is the only way I know how."

Frodo took Merry's hand and gripped it tightly. "If that is what you want, then you will be there -- if it is allowed. I do not know what will happen, for tomorrow is the day Aragorn will declare his verdict. Tomorrow is when he will sentence me."

Merry covered Frodo's hand, in turn, with his own. "I will be there."

* * *

The Warden did not permit Frodo to work among the sick the next morning.

"You have been much distraught in mind," he said, during his morning visit. "Come such a time when you have regained some composure, then I will decide anew."

With that, Frodo had to be content. But when it came time for him to be taken to the Citadel, he was surprised to see the Warden return and accompany him. "The King has requested it," the Warden only said.

And so Frodo was brought to the Hall of Kings flanked by the guards, and followed by the soft footfalls of the Healer.

* * *

They were ranged on the steps leading up to the dais: Merry, Sam and Pippin on the right and Gandalf and Faramir to the left. The King was seated.

As the Warden moved to the left, and the guards retreated, Frodo took his place upon the lowest step. Only the briefest of glances betrayed his surprise at seeing all three hobbits there, but Merry caught the uncertainty and moved forward.

"I asked them to come," he said firmly. "We've been with you from the beginning and we intend to be here at the end. Through thick and thin, we told you, and we intend to stay."

Whether or not Frodo accepted this could not be told, for before he could make any kind of reply, the King stood.

"Ring-bearer, you have claimed that you are guilty of failing to destroy the Ring and betraying the free peoples of the West. For three days, you have come before me upholding this claim, and I have listened. I have questioned you and two others on this matter: Lord Faramir and Samwise Gamgee, and I have given this matter great thought. Now on this fourth day, I will pronounce your sentence. Are you ready to receive judgement?"

Frodo took a step forward. He was pale but his voice was firm. "I am ready."

"Then I shall hand down my verdict to you in two parts. For there is more than one issue to be settled and they must be dealt with separately."

Startled, Frodo looked up at Aragorn. "More than one?" he said.

"The first issue, that of your claim, is already known, in full or in part, to all who are here today. The question is whether or not you are to be held accountable for claiming the Ring.

"My answer to you is that you cannot be held accountable for this deed. You are not guilty."

A soft collective sigh was heard then from the three hobbits on the right. Sam had had an air of watchfulness that had promised a change towards wrath if a different verdict had been given, but now he relaxed.

Frodo, however, did not relax, but when he opened his mouth to speak the King raised his hand to silence him.

"You are not guilty for claiming the Ring for you were completely under its power. You spoke of having one last choice to make; however, I do not think that you could have had that choice left to you. As Gandalf himself said, and as you had confirmed in Mordor before you reached Mount Doom, you already could not give up the Ring. What changed at the very Cracks of Doom was the breaking of your will -- completely and finally. You speak of having had a choice. Verily I say to you that you had no choice. You were no longer in control. The Ring would not have allowed you to jump, no matter how deeply you had committed yourself to that fate.

"Nay, you cannot be judged for your deed at the Sammath Naur. I cannot judge you, and you cannot. You must not. I can only judge you for your intentions before you entered that evil place -- before the power of the Ring broke your will. And I say to you that you are not guilty, for it has been made clear, by both your words and the witness of Lord Faramir and Samwise Gamgee, that it was truly your intent to destroy the Ring, even if it meant the sacrificing of your own self. Nay, I see no traitor here. No crime has been committed by you.

"And I say to you, Frodo, that you wrongfully interpret the injury done to your hand. There is no crime of yours branded there. If crime there was, it was Gollum's -- and your hand bears witness. It was his desire for the Ring that made him capable of such an assault against you -- you who had shown him mercy and saved his life more than once. And it was that mercy to Gollum that saved both yourself and the West.

"Consider this: did not your pity of the creature leave him free to seize the Ring and cause its destruction when you were in need of his very intervention? The pity and mercy you showed Gollum was the very blessing that saved you when you were most in need. Accept that deliverance, Frodo, and be grateful for it!"

Aragorn was silent then, and he looked down upon Frodo's upturned face. And it seemed to all present that there was a new understanding that was dawning upon the visage of the Ring-bearer. There was not a complete abandonment of self-blame yet there was hope.

As if satisfied, the King spoke anew. "Nevertheless, there is one more matter to be resolved. And in regarding this I have had great concern.

"You were not able to fulfill the Quest as you had foreseen it. Because of this, you have felt great grief and guilt. Nevertheless, you yourself argued convincingly at our first meeting that you were the best possible choice as Ring-bearer. If you couldn't fulfill the Quest, certainly no one else could have.

"Why then, Ring-bearer, have you felt such guilt that has made you turn away from those around you, and verily from life itself?

"And I say to you, it is because you are guilty of pride. You are guilty of setting yourself up above all others who could not possibly have carried out the Quest. You are presumptuous to have expected to be perfect -- not only in taking the Ring further than anyone else could have done, but in performing that final act of destroying the Ring yourself. Your feelings of grief and guilt are honest, Frodo, but you have some pride which pushes your guilt beyond proper limits."

Once more the King paused, and all who were listening turned their gaze upon the Ring-bearer. Frodo stood there as if transfixed, his eyes widened in shock, his lips parted. But no words came, and the King continued.

"And so I shall sentence you for your pride. First, you will continue to serve at the Houses of Healing by working among the sick under the Warden's supervision. You yourself will stay within those walls until both the Warden and I deem you fit to leave. At that time you may continue or cease your labours there as you so desire. During your stay at the Houses, you will willingly accept any treatment of your hand given by the healers or indeed by any one present here. You must no longer treat it as something shameful, or wrongfully assign to it any evil import.

"Second, you must tell one person, one who doesn't already know the full story, of your deeds during the Quest. Understand this -- you must tell them everything: your choices, your plans, and that which you were guilty of -- your pride. And you must accept their judgement or their forgiveness. But I charge you to make this choice wisely. As you yourself have said, not all may be able to listen without fear or hurt. The one whom you tell may be someone present (for most know only a part of your story!) or the one whom you choose may be elsewhere. But choose well! And make no mistake -- I will ask of you whom you have chosen, and I will verify that your story has been told. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Frodo whispered, and bowed his head.

"And, Frodo, I charge you not only to accept this judgement but to guard against both pride and guilt in the future. I do not mete out punishment only to satisfy your longing for it. Instead I lay upon you the burden of expectation. I expect you to accept your failure to destroy the Ring yourself and I also expect you to recognize that you are indeed fallible: that to cast blame upon yourself for imperfection is an act both of pride and of arrogance. You did far more than anyone else could have done, although it may be difficult for you to see it. Finally, I expect you to humbly accept the gratitude of those you helped save."

Aragorn stood then and walked down to the lowest step. He put his hand upon Frodo's bowed head. "This judgement is finished. Return to the Houses of Healing and reflect on what I have said to you. Spend time with your companions, for you will not start your duties until tomorrow."

Aragorn took his hand from the Ring-bearer's head, and Frodo knelt down and kissed the hand.

"Warden," the King said, "once more I charge you with the care of this perian, Frodo. Will you continue to accept this responsibility, and do you accept the supervision of his labours within the Houses of Healing?"

The Warden came forward. "I will and I do."

And so the Ring-bearer and the Warden were escorted out of the Hall, and the Trial was ended.

To be continued





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