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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.

~*~*~

Chapter 6: Fellowship

It was late in the afternoon when Frodo awoke. Motes of dust hovered in the sharply angled beams of sunlight streaming in through the window. For a moment, he was disoriented, unfamiliar with his surroundings, but then the events of earlier in the day came flooding back.

He padded over to the window and peered out. The westering sun shone rich and golden upon his right cheek. Although the room from which he gazed was on the first floor, the Houses of Healing were near one of the great encircling walls high up in the City. Indeed, he could see down along all the tops of the houses and over each of the lower walls; down, down until the very Gates. Softly, the low light threw all the shapes into golden and shadowed relief. Soon, however, the light would fade as the sun sank behind the Ered Nimrais, cut off by the slopes of Mount Mindolluin.

He was reluctant to leave such a sight, but he was even more reluctant to be left alone in the coming darkness. In vague hopes of finding food and a well-lit hall, he left his room and wandered along the corridors. He passed many rooms, most with their doors opened. Some were small like his own, but some were large with many men lying in beds or looking out, as he had done, at the oncoming twilight.

Shy at being discovered in his wanderings, he hurried by. No one noticed him, or heard the soft pattering of his hobbit feet. Soon, however, he came to a long corridor which stretched out to the left and to the right. He stopped, hesitating, unsure of which direction to follow. It was only a moment though before he was discovered by a matron bearing a tray of food.

"Excuse me," he said, suddenly uncertain of which would be the correct form of address for a care giver in Gondor. "Could you please tell me where I may go to have something to eat?"

She looked at him in surprise and then suddenly she smiled. "Ah, forgive me. You startled me coming out of the shadows just then. You must be the Ringbearer. We were told that you were here, my lord. I could have food brought to your room, or if it pleases you more, you may follow me to the dining hall."

"I would rather go to the dining hall, thank you," he said politely, and followed her.

The Hall was busy. Many were entering and leaving the back kitchen bearing trays of food meant for those who were confined to their rooms. Some others were eating and chatting at the wooden trestle tables.

"I must be off now, but you pick wherever you like to sit. The server is at the back of the hall. He will give you your food." With a swirl of skirts, the matron left.

Frodo tried to thank her but was not quick enough. Disappointed, he gazed around the Hall. A soaring roof, with wooden rib vaulting, gave the impression of darkness, but the walls and tables were well lit by candles and torches. No sooner than he had taken a step towards the back of the hall, a soft voice came from behind him.

"I see that you are at a loss, Ringbearer. May I help you?"

Frodo turned around and, to his dismay, saw the Lady Eowyn standing in the doorway.

"I'm sorry," he said. He quickly moved aside. "I am blocking your way."

She laughed gently. "No, not at all. But perhaps I can help you. I have come here to eat and to rest a little. Would you like to eat with me?"

Frodo hesitated. Shame coloured his cheeks as he remembered his behaviour earlier in the day.

"If you would rather not," she added, seeing his consternation, "then that is quite all right."

"No, no," he said hastily. "I would be honoured. I'm sorry. I thought that perhaps..."

"You need worry about nothing here, Frodo," she said gently. "I understand your dilemma. Come. Let us sit by the window, and I will bring you some food."

It was only a moment before she came back, bearing two bowls of stew and two pieces of bread. She joined Frodo by the window and gave him a cup of water with his food.

"I am sorry for the water. At any other time, we would have wine, but..."

Frodo cradled the cup in his hands. He shook his head. "I prefer water, actually," he said softly. A moment later, he looked up again to see Eowyn watching him reflectively.

"If it is not impertinent of me to ask," he said, "why do you serve here? I was told that you were the Lady of Rohan, betrothed to Lord Faramir."

She smiled. "And so it is true. Yet I too lay within these walls for a short time. And I will soon depart for Rohan to look upon my home one last time. For I must make all ready for the return of my lord Theoden."

She stopped then, and Frodo could see sadness touch her eyes. He moved as if to speak, but then she shook off her melancholy and spoke anew. "I would spend my last days in Minas Tirith in these Houses, learning all that I can about the art of healing. For by doing so, I am myself further healed." She looked at him directly. "We were both touched by the evil of that thing that killed my foster father. I understand you, Frodo, and the pain which drives you from all those around you. I cannot claim to know all that troubles you, but we do have something in common and it is my hope that you may find it within you to talk of the other."

Frodo looked away. "I do not think that you would want to hear of it," he said, bitterly. "I thank you for your kind words, but your deeds have been valiant. I cannot say the same for mine."

Eowyn paused a moment, as if considering her words. At last she spoke: "Although I do not agree with you, I will let it rest. For only you can know when you may speak easily and I would not press you. But consider this if you will. I leave for Rohan in a few days. Until then, will you not keep company with me? It might be dull at times, for I am resolved to learn all I can of healing, even the tedious and unexciting things, but I would welcome your friendship."

Frodo looked at her then and rose. He bowed to her deeply and said, "But for when the King demands my presence, I would be honoured to keep your company, my lady. You show me kindness such as I do not deserve."

"It is decided then," she answered, and took up her cup in both hands. She drank deeply and set it down. "I will look for you in the morning when it is light."

* * *

Frodo returned to find his room lighted with candles and a small fire crackling merrily in the fireplace.

"Here he is," Merry said. "Wonderful! Watch out, Frodo, your days of hiding are finished! The truly great thing about you being put in here is that we now know where to find you!"

"That's right," Pippin added. "Although I imagine that you will soon know every nook and cranny in this place and, hey, whoops, you'll be off again."

"Don't you go giving him any ideas, now," Sam warned. "He might just do that, he might."

Frodo looked at them bemusedly. He had followed the sounds of hobbit chatter back to his room and was now wondering vaguely how far the sound was travelling through the rest of the hushed corridors.

Pippin flung open the arched glass windows and leaned out. Sam joined him. Fortunately, they were standing on a bench under the window, or Sam would never have been able to peer over the edge.

"Why, cousin, a room of your own, on the first floor, and overlooking the garden! Trust a Baggins to get the pick of any decent hobbit-style dwelling!" Pippin grinned.

Merry rolled his eyes, and even Sam smirked. Frodo reluctantly smiled, and folded his arms across his chest. "Trust a Took to find what a Baggins has found, move right in, and make himself comfortable." He looked at the fire and the candles.

"Cousin! You wound me!" Pippin laid a hand dramatically over his chest. He leaned back a little in mock grief. Suddenly he found himself flailing in mid-air. "Woah!" he cried. Catching each side of the window frame, he pulled himself back into the room.

"Well, that is one way to get rid of a Took!" Merry said. "That's it, Frodo, insult him again, and we'll be rid of him for good!"

"Just wait half a tick. I'll think of something," Frodo laughed.

The other three looked at him.

"What is it?" he said, puzzled.

"Nothing much, my dear hobbit," Merry said. "We just haven't heard you make such a sound for a long time."

"It's a good sound to hear too, if I may make so bold, sir," Sam added. "I wouldn't mind hearing it more often."

Frodo looked at them, suddenly sobered. They all gazed at him expectantly, with relief shining in their faces. "I'll try my best," he said thickly. The mood was broken.

Merry nodded. "Right," he said quickly. "Now don't change on us! I'm still waiting for some marvellous withering word to cut Pippin down to size. Don't disappoint me!"

"And he surely needs some sort of cutting to size," Sam added. He looked at his master beseechingly. "He's been strutting around as if he were the Bullroarer himself! Begging your pardon, Master Pippin, sir!" he said in a quick aside.

"My goodness," Pippin said. "You Hobbiton lot do gang up on the rest of us, don't you! And Merry, I would have thought better of you! Well, I will prove my worth to you and simply..." he leaned back once more, "pluck...," he most gracefully reached down, "a flower for my dear cousin's..."

There was a strangled sound, a brief commotion, as Pippin's legs swung up and disappeared through the window.

"Pippin!" gasped Frodo.

"Not to worry!" Pippin said cheerfully, his head popping up past the ledge. He reached in. "Here's your flower. A little bent though." He looked at it ruefully.

"Pippin!"

* * *

Footsteps echoed briefly and then were lost among the great black pillars of the King's Hall of the Citadel. Aragorn listened as he stood by one of the flaming torches set in the wall of the great outer aisles. The sound of the steps stopped for a moment, and then altered and grew louder. Gandalf appeared from between one great pillar and a statue of an ancient king.

"You are troubled," he said as he approached Aragorn. "What counsel do you desire, that you request my presence after all others have left."

Aragorn turned to face him. "The Ringbearer has asked me to judge him. He claims that he is guilty for submitting to the will of the Ring at the very last. He claims that he has betrayed all who had depended upon him."

"Guilty," Gandalf murmured sadly. "Yes, guilt for failing to reach the unattainable."

"I wish not to do this thing," Aragorn said, impassioned. "But I have given my word, and I would not be proven false." He leaned against the wall, head bowed as if in defeat. "Oh, Gandalf, my friend, I do not know what to do. How can I judge Frodo? I owe much to him, and I hold him high in my esteem. And yet he would have me impose my will upon him."

"And you must do so if you have truly given your word."

"I have."

Gandalf simply watched him as Aragorn strove to find words in protest, but none came. A long silence passed. "Follow me," the wizard said. He walked down the long aisle, and slipped through the shadows between the pillars into the centre of the great hall. Aragorn walked after him silently, wondering as he approached the dais.

Gandalf stood by the throne of Gondor and looked at the carven canopy behind which the Silver Tree glimmered upon the wall. "Such a grand thing this is," he mused. "Had you thought that you would be here now, come into your inheritance, when you first met Frodo at Bree?"

"I had imagined it," Aragorn answered doubtfully, He stood on the lowest step of the dais. "But I knew not then if it would have come to pass."

"And yet you are here now. Greatly changed in circumstance, but unchanged in purpose. Tell me. Would Frodo have recognized you as you are now – King of these lands?"

Aragorn laughed mirthlessly. "He would not have done so. I recall that he had difficulty recognizing me as trustworthy whatsoever."

"And yet now he trusts you with his life."

Aragorn frowned. "But he is not asking me to guard his life."

"No, he isn't. But he has seen you change from dubious guide to ruler of this realm, and his trust in you is unwavering. He knows that you will keep your word. He knows that you will listen to him fairly, and most importantly that you will dispassionately weigh good against evil.

"He is not evil!"

"And he knows," Gandalf continued, "that you will not place personal feelings in front of duty and honour."

"He needs healing, not judgement."

"And who is to say that one cannot be the other? Perhaps even Frodo suspects this, although he may not even be aware that he does so. Nevertheless, penance itself can be an agent of healing."

Aragorn walked up the steps and said "I will not judge him solely in the aim of healing him. That is not what he has requested, and to do that would be no better than merely humouring him."

"And nor should you." Gandalf sat in the throne then, and ran his hands thoughtfully over the arm rests. "Good chair," he said. "But however well it may fit me, it fits another better." He stood up. "Your throne awaits you, King Elessar. Make certain it fits you well."

Aragorn sat. Gandalf watched in silence. "It fits me well," Aragorn said at last. "Thank you, old friend. Your arguments served to temper my own thoughts, and to turn hesitance into resolve."

Gandalf walked down the steps and then turned. He bent his head in a slight bow, and then turned and strode out of the hall, his robes billowing behind him.

Aragorn stayed there, listened, and pondered as the sound of the wizard's steps echoed amongst the pillars.

 

To be continued





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