Disclaimer: All the characters and settings (except for the five curious children) 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.

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Chapter 5: Interlude

They brought him to a small room which overlooked the Garden.

"You may rest here, whenever you so desire," the Warden told him. "As you are not ill in body, you are free to wander about the Houses and in the Garden as you like, but you must remember the Lord Aragorn's commands. You may not leave unless accompanied by one appointed to guide you."

"I remember, and I thank you for your kindness," Frodo said. "I will not forget the commands."

The Warden inclined his head and withdrew.

"Aragorn..." Frodo began.

"I am sorry, Frodo, but I too must go. I will be back on the morrow, when I will hear your plea."

"Of course. I am so sorry for causing you such trouble."

Aragorn looked at Frodo gravely. "As I told you before, you must let those who listen decide whether or not you are "trouble". I do not think so, yet I am troubled for you. Do you still wish to be judged?"

"Yes!"

"Then rest, today. I will leave word that any of the Fellowship may visit you. Tomorrow, we shall see."

Frodo bowed his head. "Thank you."

Aragorn left the room, leaving Frodo alone save for Sam who had listened without interruption. Frodo sat down shakily on the bed.

"Oh what have I done, Sam," he said.

"Well, I don't rightly know, sir. You have gotten yourself into a fix and no mistake. How on earth you got that idea of having Mr. Strider treat you like any common thief into your head is beyond me."

"No, no, Sam, that wasn't what I meant." He started to shiver. "I tried. I tried so hard, but I didn't do it. I didn't want to in the end, you see."

Sam felt a cold fear wash over him, and he knelt down by Frodo. "Please don't talk like that, Mr. Frodo," he said earnestly. "It just breaks my heart to see you carry on so. You tried your hardest. No one could try harder than that."

There was no answer and Sam looked up into his master's eyes. They were unfixed upon anything within the room, and Sam feared what they might be seeing instead. He took Frodo's hands between his own and then muttered in dismay. "So cold. He didn't ought ta' be out there so long. And what with Mr. Strider and all." He got to his feet. "Come on, Mr. Frodo. Up you get, and let me turn back these bedcovers. You need a proper rest."

Frodo got up as if already in a dream, and stood there while Sam made ready the pillows and blankets. Unprotesting, he let himself be helped into the bed and under the covers and, as soon as Sam had tucked the edge of the blanket snugly around him, he fell into a deep sleep. Sam looked down at him for a long moment and shook his head. Then he too left, softly shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Fellen half skipped, half ran down the steep cobbled paths. He felt like singing joyfully, but somehow it didn't feel quite proper in the City which still hovered between celebration and mourning. Never mind, he thought to himself, the Ringbearer had looked at him and had not turned him away. He hugged this knowledge to himself with glee as he made his headlong rush towards home.

Suddenly, he shot out from between two houses and plunged headlong into a knot of children.

"Here he is!" Telgan shouted, and they grabbed him. Fellen realized that they had been watching for him, waiting by one of the alleyways frequented during their explorations. They gave him a little shake. "Where have you been?" "Tell us!"

Try as he might, he couldn't quite keep the grin off his face. He had managed to do what they had not, and they were older and bolder. But then a whisper of caution crept into his mind, and he sobered.

"Come on, Fellen, tell us! We know you went back after we had to leave. Is he still there? Did you talk to him?"

Fellen hesitated. If he told them, they might let him fully into their group. If he used his knowledge as currency to gain admiration, he might not have to be the tag-along ever again. But then he remembered those gentle yet troubled eyes that had so briefly looked at him. He stood there for a moment, surrounded by admiring and expectant faces.

"Sorry," he said finally. "Other people came. He's probably gone by now."

They released him then with groans of disappointment.

Fellen watched them scatter, all except for Felnor. "You've got to go back home," Felnor warned him. "Mother wasn't pleased when you didn't come back for dinner." He peered at Fellen closely. "Are you sure he isn't there anymore?"

Fellen shook his head, reluctant to turn his own older brother away. "No, I'm not, but I really don't think he's there."

"Well, tell me if you see him again, all right?" Felnor's voice took on a cajoling tone. "I'd give you that orc arrow-head I found if you told me first."

Fellen nodded, secretly dismayed at this new offer. How he had wanted that arrow head! Now, however, it failed to move him. His brother would be suspicious though, if he didn't show any enthusiasm whatsoever. Before he could betray his thoughts, he ran off.

* * *

"He what?" Merry shot up from the chair where he was sitting. Pippin tensed suddenly too, no less aghast.

"That's what I said, begging your pardon, sir," Sam said. He sighed and sat down opposite Pippin. "He's dead set on it, and even Mr. Strider couldn't get him to budge one bit."

Merry sat down again with a thud. He held his hands up helplessly and then dropped them. "This wasn't what I had in mind when we decided to talk to Aragorn."

Pippin laughed ruefully. "Trust Frodo to completely flummox us at every turn. It's what he's been doing ever since this whole crazy adventure started."

"And Aragorn has agreed? I mean, really agreed?" Merry looked at Sam hopefully. "Perhaps he was just humouring him."

Sam shook his head emphatically. "No. No, he wasn't, neither. You know how he is. He took everything Mr. Frodo said seriously."

"How could Frodo think up such a thing," Pippin asked. He paused for a moment and then looked at them doubtfully. "Do you think he's quite all right... you know..."

"If he isn't," responded Merry quickly, before Sam, half risen, could say anything, "then he jolly well has a good reason not to be." Sam subsided with a sharp look at Pippin. "But I don't think so." Merry paused for a moment and then said slowly, "I do think though, that he can't see past his own obsession. It's blinded him to everything else. Sam, I don't know exactly what happened at the end, and I haven't wanted to pry, but I'd be blind if I couldn't see that something awful did happen. You need only to look at his hand..."

Sam winced.

"What happened, Sam," Merry asked softly. "I think that we need to know, to understand, if we really want to help him. I mean, he obviously had the thing on..."

Sam abruptly got up from his chair and walked to the fireplace. His face was lost in shadow as he stared down into the dark empty grate. "It's cold," he said, jerkily. "Can't nobody find a bit of wood to make a fire, cheery-like?"

"The City is on rations for now until we finish rebuilding..." Pippin said absently. He too stood and joined Sam, leaning against the mantle. He peered at Sam's face. "Sam, you didn't... I mean," he swallowed convulsively. "You didn't... cut..."

With a cry, Sam pushed himself away from the mantle. His back was to Pippin.

"I'm so sorry!" Pippin said. "Forgive me. Is that what happened then?"

"Don't press, Pip," Merry said urgently. "Let him come round on his own."

"I can't say as I blame you," Sam said. His voice was muffled, and hard to hear. "Drat it all. What was I thinking, that maybe nobody wouldn't wonder at his hand. Hoping, really. But I can't tell you nohow. Not without Mr. Frodo's permission. Don't you understand?"

"We understand," said Merry reluctantly. "But you must understand, Sam, that we want to help him. And we can't help but think of all sorts of ghastly things that could have happened. That's also unfair to Frodo. And, what about you? You're the only one who knows, unless either of you have told someone else. We are worried about you too, even though sometimes it may not seem that way. Having to keep such a horrible thing to yourself... wouldn't it be a relief to be able to count on us?"

Sam turned to face him. "I suppose it would," he said with a sigh. "But that don't matter one whit, without Mr. Frodo's approval."

"Hang Frodo's approval," Pippin said, annoyed in spite of himself. "Think for yourself, Sam! I know you want to protect him, but we all set out together by sharing everything and helping each other. Even when he tried to keep things secret. We hobbits have stuck together, and will stick together despite Orcs, and even Gollum..."

Sam choked.

Pippin glanced uncertainly at Merry and then back. "Sam?"

Suddenly, understanding dawned in Merry's face. "Do you mean to say that Gollum had something to do with it?" he asked.

"I don't mean to say nothing! Mr. Merry, sir," Sam said hastily.

Merry looked at him intently but not without a measure of sympathy. "Sam, did Gollum cut the Ring from Frodo's hand?"

Agonized, Sam struggled in silence for a moment. He looked at Merry helplessly.

"He did, didn't he, Sam. We had heard that he was with you two. Frodo claimed the Ring. Gollum tried to get it back, didn't he."

"Curse him," Sam finally burst out. "I wanted to kill that Stinker. I was just too slow. Just too slow at that. That's Samwise Gamgee all over. Always making mistakes."

"No," said Merry, decisively. "We can't have the two of you running around, blaming yourselves silly."

"That's right," added Pippin. "It's just as well you made a clean breast of it, Sam, old fellow. It was pretty horrible, and I feel awful for both you and Frodo, but you can't hang on to it forever. That's what Frodo's doing, and it's not doing him any good, you know."

"I know," Sam said, reluctantly. "That's what I keep telling meself." His voice dropped to a whisper. "But the worst thing is, sometimes I don't know if I am sorry or glad. If Stinker hadn't done it, there wasn't nobody else to do it, you know,... but me."

Merry shuddered. Wordlessly, he got up, went over and gripped Sam's shoulder for a moment. "Let's not talk about it anymore, then, if you don't want," and his voice was just a little rough. "We know enough to not make a mess of things. Anything else, and you tell us when you're ready. All right?"

"That's right," Pippin added, busying himself unnecessarily by pushing back chairs. Finally, he opened the door. " Let's go and have something to eat. They'll have a nice fire in the mess hall. Nice and cheery, just right for you, Sam. And then we'll go and see him. Won't we, Merry."

To be continued

CHAPTER NOTE: In the last scene of this chapter, there is one element which is similar to that used in the story "Aftermath" by Willow wode. How much that story influenced the presence of the idea in this scene, I do not know; nevertheless, I highly recommend "Aftermath" to anyone who may be interested. Willow wode is a wonderful writer, so please have a look at the story, and others, which are on Fanfiction.net. I have used the idea quite differently here; however, I haven’t identified it as that would have given spoilers to both this chapter and to "Aftermath." It would really be much better for you to go and read "Aftermath" for yourself.