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 7: And in Your Stead?

True to her promise, Lady Eowyn sought Frodo soon after daybreak. He was awake and ready when she came, and they ate together in the dining hall. Sounds of life stirring were about them as cooks, care givers, and other helpers of various sorts made ready for the new day.

Frodo rubbed his hand across his brow, tiredly. He had slept uneasily and did not feel refreshed. Disquieting dreams had plagued his sleep, and now he picked at his food, ill at ease.

"Are you well, Frodo?" Eowyn asked, concerned. "If you desire it, you may put off our appointment until such time as you feel ready."

Frodo shook his head firmly. "I thank you, but I wish to do this. And were I to return to my room, I would not be able to sleep again."

"Then eat well, Ring-bearer," she said, "for you will do little good stumbling after me with an empty stomach!"

Frodo smiled ruefully and ate with determination.

After they had broken their fast, Eowyn led Frodo to the second floor, and as they made their way to the first of the large rooms, she spoke. "The Warden has given his blessing on our venture. He deems that I know enough to teach you the very simplest of the healing skills. Indeed, that will take up any time that we may have together before I depart."

And so the two worked together, moving through the rooms of the Houses of Healing, with Frodo learning how to see which of the sick could be eased with cool cloths, or strengthening draughts of simple make. Eowyn did not teach of the higher skills in mixing medicinal herbs for, as she said, "You would need much longer a time in study to safely determine correct choice and amounts that are needful. Better that you are sure in giving comforts to those in need of a simple touch, or even a gentle word or two, than to err in uncertain judgement which could bring harm."

At first, Frodo felt awkward when speaking to those who received his ministrations. But soon he realized that he was a comfort to them with his gentle approach and courteous voice. Even as he evaded any close questioning of his adventures, he found that when he inquired of the questioners in return, his patients were all too willing to talk about themselves.

And so Frodo came to find a kind of oddly restful peace in tending the sick. His fears and troubles did not leave him, but while he bent his will towards learning his newfound craft, and while talking to those he comforted, they ceased to haunt his every thought. The morning passed swiftly, so much so that he was startled when Eowyn bade him to cease.

As they ate, Eowyn looked curiously at his right hand. "Forgive me if my question troubles you, but I have seen you favour your hand. Does it still pain you to use it?"

Frodo looked down at the curled fingers. With an effort, he straightened them. "It is all right," he said, unwilling to speak of it any further. "I am able to do what you ask of me."

So unyielding was his answer that Eowyn forbore from making any further enquiry. And indeed she had little chance to press Frodo more for a moment later, the messenger came. Two guards of the Citadel were waiting at the gates to the Houses with summons.

It was noon, and they had come for him.

* * *

Fellen walked disconsolately down the cobbled street. He had received a scolding when he had returned home at dinner the night before. The story of how the children had been found pestering the Ring-bearer had reached his father's ears, and his mother had been angered by his truancy at mealtime. The result had been a curfew and extra duties around the home. A two day restriction from leaving their section of the City had also been imposed which dismayed Fellen the most. Such an intense longing to return and to possibly see once more the brooding perian who had oh! so briefly allowed a connection between them tested his obedience sorely. He wondered if he would be able to follow the strict injunction his parents had laid down for him.

Fellen longed to talk to someone about the Ring-bearer, but he had already evaded the other children's questions. He couldn't talk to them. And his parents? They would no doubt see any mention of the perian as a sign of his overweening curiosity. He thought of Bergil then who, as it was rumoured, continued to see Peregrin from time to time.

He dashed headlong to Bergil's house. If only Bergil were there, he thought.

To his dismay, he found the dwelling full of people and activity. When Beregond came out of the front door, carrying some heavy bundles, Fellen shrank back around the corner. He certainly did not want to meet Beregond after the day before. He suspected that the deeds of himself and the other children were well known to the neighbours and rather infamous.

He also wasn't quite sure exactly what had been told about his own role -- had he been depicted as the ring-leader? All in all, it was best, he felt, that he stayed out of Beregond's sight.

Then he spotted Bergil walking up the street and he waved his hand, furtively beckoning him to the side of the house.

Bergil saw him and sauntered up with a grin. "I've heard you were caught spying on the Pheriannath yesterday."

"Only one of them!" said Fellen defensively. He kept a nervous look out for any adults.

"That's not what Pippin said this morning. Apparently you all were looking in the windows at the mess hall. He thought it quite humourous!"

"Humorous?" Fellen stopped short at that. No matter that he himself had not been looking through the window. Somehow, he hadn't considered that any of the Pheriannath would actually find something entertaining. That made them a little more... normal. He hesitated then. "They didn't mind, then?"

Bergil looked at him oddly. "No, they didn't. In fact, he said that Sam -- that's the shorter one you lot were wondering about the other day -- Sam would like to meet you scamps."

Fellen's mind was in a whirl. He digested this news silently for a moment, until Bergil turned to leave. Frantically, he tugged on Bergil's tunic. "What about the Ring-bearer?" he whispered urgently.

Bergil turned back in surprise. "The Ring-bearer?" He frowned. "They won't talk about him. I do not know why. He's different somehow." He shrugged. "But he's their leader, I think. He doesn't go down to the Guards' Mess Hall like the others. Perhaps he eats with the King."

"Eats with the King." Fellen savoured this new piece of information and then tucked it away for later. "Bergil, do you think that, perhaps, the Ring-bearer might want to meet us too?"

"I doubt it!" Bergil said, with almost a shout of laughter. He drew himself up proudly. "My father has met him though. Fair spoken, he said. Almost elvish-looking, although you couldn't say that of the others!"

A shadow fell across them. Fellen looked up and gasped when he saw Beregond watching them.

"Don't be so surprised, lad!" Beregond said, chuckling. "Don't fret, I haven't come to berate you once again for spying on the Ring-bearer. I must admit, if I had been your age, I might have wanted to do the same thing myself."

"But you said..."

"Nevermind, lad. I've heard you've received a fair bit of punishment. Let it go at that!"

Bergil was staring openly at Fellen in astonishment. "You saw the Ring-bearer?"

"Only for a moment," Beregond told him. "Come on now, there is a lot more to be done."

Fellen found his tongue again. "What are you doing?"

"We are making ready for our journey to Ithilien," Bergil said, with glee. "My father will be leading the first march of Lord Faramir's men to Osgiliath. I get to march with them!"

"You're leaving?" This hit Fellen like a blow.

"Don't worry, it won't be for a week yet, but we must make ready for the move before the march." Beregond tousled Fellen's hair. "You will have some time yet before he leaves." He walked away.

Bergil leaned towards Fellen then. "I'll ask Pippin about you meeting them," he said in a whisper. "Perhaps I shall even ask if we can meet the Ring-bearer too."

Before Fellen could stop him, he was gone. Meet the perian in a group? No, that was not what he wanted. The tenuous connection he had felt was too fragile to be risked in an official, arranged, and blunt meeting with Manrim, Telgan and the others. And yet...

With decidedly mixed feelings, he walked slowly back home.

* * *

They brought him to the Hall of Kings. Only once before had Frodo stood before the great door which now opened to admit him. That time had been joyous, a time of celebrations, following the return of the host of Gondor from Ithilien. Now he stood there with trepidation oddly mingled with relief. One of the guards bid him enter.

As he walked down the length of the hall, he could hear the firm footfalls of the guards flanking him, but little else. At the far end of the hall, Aragorn was seated upon the great throne, waiting. The guards brought him to the foot of the steps of the dais and then at a signal from the King, they retreated. Soon there was a profound stillness through which Frodo could only hear his own uneven breathing.

"You may come up the steps, Ring-bearer."

Frodo looked around the hall in some confusion. "Are we alone then?"

Aragorn looked at him steadily. "Do you wish for me to call in the guards?"

"No, no, I don't ask for that," Frodo said, flustered, "but I thought that... that claims were heard openly."

"Do you wish to be observed? If so, you need only ask. It is your choice."

Frodo shook his head, dismayed. "I don't wish to question you. I am content."

He climbed the steps until he was facing Aragorn directly. Even standing, he had to gaze up at Aragorn. He felt very small indeed. No more was the man who was looking at him his old friend: not Strider, nor even Aragorn. Nay, it was the King whom Frodo now faced.

"Make now your claim, Frodo."

Frodo stepped forward and said, unwaveringly, "I have betrayed the free peoples of these lands. In defiance of my vow, given at the Council of Elrond, I put on the One Ring and claimed it for my own. In that moment, I laid bare the plans of the Council to the Enemy and nearly brought the West to ruin. I deserve to be punished for this crime."

"This is a serious claim that you make, Ring-bearer, and not one to be made lightly. However, do you not fail to consider other claims that could argue against you?"

Frodo shook his head, agitated. "I was entrusted with the Ring and the Quest! I freely took on the responsibility of destroying the Ring. I was fully aware of the dangers: I can't plead ignorance."

"Freely? That is a poor choice of words, Frodo. The knowledge of the dire need to have the Ring destroyed was weighing heavily on you, I deem. And I believe that, aware of it or not, you knew the dangers of having the Ring handled by those with power. In fact, I put it to you that you felt, quite rightly, that you were the only one who could have taken the Ring safely on its journey."

"Safely?" Frodo asked bitterly. "But isn't that the point? It wasn't safe in my hands. I did not resist it. I allowed it to corrupt mein the end."

"In the end, yes. But tell me this. How well do you believe anyone else would have fared in your stead?"

"I kept the Ring, and betrayed those who had entrusted me with it."

"Answer my question. How far would another have made it. I, for example, or Boromir?"

Frodo hesitated. Aragorn watched him keenly, and Frodo felt as if he were reading his very thoughts. He shifted upon his feet, for he knew full well that it would have been disastrous had Boromir taken the Ring. He was also uncomfortably aware of his own early, half-formed suspicions of Aragorn. Memories of the tale of Isildur rose unbidden in his mind.

"Well? What say you to my question?"

Frodo shook his head dumbly.

Aragorn sighed then. "If not Men, nay, do not demur! I can see that you do not wish to sully the character of my own kind. Would have any other member of the Fellowship been better suited to carry the Ring?"

Frodo considered this. "Gandalf refused to take it. He wouldn't even touch it, unless, he said, there was great need."

Aragorn nodded slowly. "Gimli?"

"Of course not," Frodo said without thinking. "Well," he amended awkwardly, "the Dwarves' love of gold... At first, his motives would have been pure--- "

A smile touched Aragorn's lips. "I will not tell friend Gimli of your words. Yet I believe you speak wisely. A weakness of the Dwarves, you say, only too easily used by the will of the Ring. And what of Legolas?

"I do not know." Frodo frowned. "My heart tells me he would not have accepted the burden."

"Yet you did. For what reasons did you feel you should do so?"

Frodo cast his thoughts back to that day in Rivendell. He said slowly, "Gandalf said that those with power were more easily corrupted by the Ring. I am neither strong nor powerful."

"And you were considering this at the time?"

Frodo hesitated. "I am not sure. I don't remember being aware of anything save for a feeling of compulsion. I simply had to speak."

"And so you chose to take the Ring. Yet you said that you are neither strong nor powerful. I cannot dispute that. But then, there were others in the Fellowship who matched your description. Do you suggest that perhaps one of them could have taken the Ring? Sam, for an instance?"

"No!"

Aragorn raised his eyebrows. "No? Why do you say that?"

Taken aback by his own vehement reply, Frodo closed his eyes. The close questioning was taking its toll on him, and he felt uncertain under Aragorn's unbending regard.

"Sam is honest and trustworthy," he said at last, and opened his eyes with difficulty. "And I believe that the Ring had less effect on him than on me, but... he would not have had the understanding or, or the nature, the conceit to burden himself with a task that no one else would have taken. He has too honest and gentle a nature." He was at a loss for words to describe his friend as something possibly wanting. "Sam's strength is to nurture, to support. He belongs with growing things, and the earth. It would have been wrong to expect him to have anything to do with such an insidious evil as that---thing!"

The King leaned down then, and said, very softly, "Some have said that last thing of you."

Dubiously, Frodo shook his head. "I am different. I knew of evil and terrifying things outside the borders of the Shire. I grew up with that knowledge, and always with, with the idea that I too would go on a journey some day, just like Bilbo. I wasn't innocent of the knowledge of evil things the way Sam was. And... Sam's strength is in loyalty. He could not have, would not have taken the lead role in any venture. He would have rebelled at such an idea."

Aragorn smiled once again. "Truly you speak words of clarity concerning Sam. What of Merry or Pippin?"

"Pippin? He was too young! He wouldn't have fully understood the dangers of such a mission."

Aragorn leaned back then. "I could certainly tell you that no one at the Council of Elrond would have accepted Pippin, for those very reasons," he said, solemnly

Frodo was oblivious. "And Merry..." he said, "Merry, of all of them, perhaps... But my heart tells me he would not have been a good choice."

"Why?"

"He... he is too practical. Full of plans. Very much a hobbit of action. But could he have sacrificed himself to such a task? Make such a pledge? And would not the Ring have tempted him on his very strengths and desire of seeing the job done?"

Aragorn regarded him sorrowfully. "Sacrifice? Perhaps now. But then? Who can say. Yet you knew him best, and thus I accept your argument."

He stood up then and walked down the steps. Frodo turned and watched him but did not move. Aragorn stopped at the lowest step and considered for a moment. Without turning around, he said, "You have given me a convincing argument that you were the ideal choice as Ring-bearer."

"By elimination, not by design. And it doesn't matter if I failed in my promise! And does it not signify that I had advantages that others did not? I should have resisted the Ring!"

Aragorn turned then and strode up the steps. "Should you have?" he demanded. He sat down once again. "But that is a matter I wish to keep for another day. For now, suffice it to say, you were indeed the right choice. By your own words you have said that you had little strength or power for temptation by the Ring. You had the knowledge to understand what was at stake, and I would say that you were aware of your own shortcomings. There was no bravado. No overconfidence---alas that Boromir fell prey to the last!' Aragorn's voice was tight with anguish. A moment passed, and he spoke again. "Furthermore, do not forget the words: And the halfling forth shall stand. I assure you, I have not!"

Silence fell. Frodo cast about for words but he was in vain, for he could not gainsay what Aragorn had said. Defeated, he bowed his head.

"Go, now, Ring-bearer, and think upon the words that have been spoken here today. We shall meet again on the morrow, when we will consider other matters of your claim."

And upon a signal from the King, the two guards came and escorted Frodo back through the stone avenue of kings, and to the Houses of Healing.

To be continued