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.

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Chapter 9: In Search of a Path

That evening, Frodo and Sam ate together in the Hall. Frodo, perceiving that Sam had been anxious about him, endeavoured to put the gardener at ease. When he brought him food and drink on a tray, Sam objected but Frodo overrode him. "Now Sam," he said, "you know what Aragorn said. I must use my hand, must I not? Then don't hinder me! Sit still and let me do a little work for a change."

But Sam was torn between recognizing the truth in those words and wishing to return to his familiar role. The two talked long over their meal of light, inconsequential matters for Sam was careful not to raise any subject that might distress his master, while Frodo wished to spare his friend from further concern.

Despite Frodo's new determination to use his hand normally, muscles stiff from injury, tension and lack of use quickly knotted again. Once the two hobbits had returned to Frodo's room, Sam lit the candles.

"All right then, Master, I'd say you've used your hand a mite too hard. Say what you will, but let your Sam tend to it."

Frodo smiled wryly. "I shan't say anything then." He sat down on the bed with a sigh. But Sam could still feel a slight resistance from Frodo when he took his hand. So Sam bade his master to lie down, and Frodo did so.

Sam held Frodo's hand reverently in his own, gazed at it for a moment, and kissed it. Then he gently turned it over.

* * *

"I still don't think that we were making that much noise," Pippin whispered resentfully.

"You may not have thought so," Merry whispered back, "but I definitely saw Frodo wince a couple of times."

"Right. Make me feel guilty, why don't you. All I did was fall out of the window once! The way the matron acted just now, there was a herd of oliphaunts stampeding through the halls."

Merry stopped for a moment and looked at Pippin thoughtfully. "You know, that's the best description I've heard yet. Suits you, cousin."

The expression on Pippin's face wavered for a moment between annoyance and mirth. Amusement won, and he chuckled. "Well, I suppose we were talking loudly, weren't we. But they won't hear us coming this time."

Merry looked at him rather skeptically but said nothing and followed him noiselessly through the halls.

So successful were they in their silence that they came to Frodo's room without attracting notice. And as they drew near, they could see flickering candle light through the doorway, even though there was no sound within. The two hobbits came to the door and then paused as they looked in.

After a moment, Pippin looked at Merry, his eyes shining a little too brightly. Merry nodded sympathetically and made a slight gesture as if to say "Enough--let us leave, then." But Pippin did not move. He stayed riveted to the spot and, slowly, Merry found himself drawing back to look in.

Frodo was lying on the bed, his eyes closed. Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed opposite the door. But what drew Merry's eyes was the way Sam was holding Frodo's maimed hand -- holding it and kneading it with his fingers. That hand, which ever since Cormallen had been held out of sight from casual glance, now lay limply open, trustingly open, in Sam's gentle but firm hold.

And Sam's gaze, intent upon his task, was only broken when he focussed on Frodo's face, just for the briefest of moments, to assure himself that there was no distress. Merry smiled, a little fondly. There was no sign of discomfort whatsoever. Indeed, Frodo's face was still and untroubled, even though Merry could only see it in the uncertain light of a guttering candle at his bed-side.

And then the bed-side candle went out. In the dim light of the remaining candles, Merry could see Sam lay Frodo's hand carefully down and rise. Soon, the candle wick was trimmed and relit. But as Sam drew his hand back and took up Frodo's once again, he looked up and suddenly froze. Hastily, Merry put his finger over his lips warningly, and started to back away. But Sam's sudden stillness must have alerted Frodo who opened his eyes.

"We're sorry," said Merry, "we didn't want to disturb you. We were just going."

"No, no," said Frodo, slowly sitting up. "It's all right."

Merry noticed with regret that the right hand was now quietly curled and hidden from view.

"That's right," said Sam. "I think Mr. Frodo could do with some company."

"And what are you, Sam?" cried Pippin with amusement, "if not company."

"Quite right, Pippin," Frodo said, smiling now. "If you are not company -- why then, what are you?"

Sam said nothing but shook his head. Somehow he managed to look both exasperated and abashed.

"We have news for you, Sam," Pippin said, gleefully. "Remember those children who were peeking in through the window the other day?"

"That I do," said Sam with interest. Frodo looked up questioningly.

"Well, they have asked, through Bergil, to meet us. They want to meet all of us. We have agreed on tomorrow, mid-afternoon, at Beregond's house." Pippin turned to Frodo. "I didn't promise that you would come, Cousin, but I am sure that the Warden would allow you to go. We could even ask Aragorn."

Frodo looked troubled. The others watched him anxiously. He shook his head. "I don't think I should. No, perhaps I shouldn't. But you go along, Sam. I know that you would enjoy it. They won't miss me, I'm sure."

Merry frowned. "I am not so sure about that. Bergil particularly asked about you." He paused. A hint of distress was beginning to show in Frodo's eyes. "But it's up to you. I don't see why you wouldn't be allowed to go."

Sam hastily got up. "I'll go. I can carry any message from the children if they are that keen to say something to you, sir. Perhaps another time you could meet them, if you were willing."

"Perhaps," said Frodo.

* * *

It was morning, and in the third bed from the door, the man was struggling and crying out. The covers were twisted about his body.

"Do not touch me, you foul thing!"

Gentle hands attempted to hold him down but to no avail. They were shaken off, and the man sat bolt upright. "Get away from me!" he cried, and lashed out wildly.

Frodo was flung backwards and he fell against the next bed. A little dazed, he got up and looked around him. "Lady Eowyn," he called urgently.

"Let me help," a deep voice said behind him. Frodo stepped hastily away and turned around. The man who had been lying in the bed against which Frodo had fallen was rising to his feet.

"Are you sure that you can do this?" Frodo asked, worried.

"I am sure," the man answered. A moment later, he was kneeling by the bed of the struggling man and holding him down. "You may do your work, Ring-bearer."

Frodo once again cautiously approached the sick man and tried once more to remove the bandages from the man's wound. But to no avail. The man cried out again, and Frodo withdrew his hand.

With relief, he saw Eowyn approach. "He will not let me touch him. The wound pains him too much."

Eowyn gazed over the scene silently for a moment. "Does it strain you to hold him, my lord?"

"No, my Lady," said Frodo's helper. "He is my captain, and I know him well. My own wounds pain me little."

"Then you may continue."

Frodo hesitated. "I do not wish to hurt him. You could help him far better than I."

Eowyn frowned. "How fares your hand?"

Frodo looked at her. "It has been doing well since you tended it earlier. It is a little sore, but I can move it easily."

"Then I do not see how I could aid this man any better than you. You have a deft and careful touch, Frodo. I have seen it."

Agonized, Frodo wavered for a moment. Finally he said softly, "I don't wish to cause pain."

"Do you suggest that we leave the soiled bandages unchanged? The longer they stay, the worse it will become. How will that aid him?" Eowyn's voice was unyielding. She knelt down by the man's side and watched Frodo. After a moment, she spoke again more softly. "Sometimes we must give hurt if we are to heal. Do not shy away from this, Frodo. It will do you little good, and him none."

Frodo looked down, abashed, and then, once more, began to remove the bandages. When the cries grew loud, he doggedly continued until he had lifted away the last of the linen and gently washed the wound. Then, when he had bound the new linens in place, he stepped back, shaking slightly.

The sick man's friend loosened his hold and returned to his own bed. But before he sat down upon it, he bowed to Frodo. "Thank you, Ring-bearer, for helping my captain."

"You are welcome," said Frodo faintly.

* * *

"It seems to me, unwilling as you may be to consider this, that you not only were meant to be the Ring-bearer but also took your vow with the gravity it was due. Only through humility did you attempt to give the Ring to one you felt better suited to the task."

It was the second day of the trial, and Frodo had been brought again before the King.

Frodo frowned. "I was charged with never letting anyone handle the Ring outside the Fellowship, and even then only at great need. I should not have offered it to Galadriel once I had been appointed Ring-bearer."

"This is a fair claim. Why, then, did you make this offer?"

Frodo hesitated. Very slowly, he spoke. "Only a short time earlier, Gandalf fell in Moria. I was uneasy, for Boromir..." He hesitated. "Boromir seemed unduly fascinated by me and what I carried. I felt safer when Gandalf was with us, but when he was lost... I realized anew that I was not strong enough for the task. But the Lady Galadriel was the bearer of one of the three elven-rings. She could understand the dangers of the Ring."

Aragorn frowned. "I know this, for you yourself told me of it before. But we will not speak of what she bears any further. Did you not think that she too could have been tempted by the One Ring?"

Frodo lowered his head. "Not at first." He fell silent. The memory of Galadriel, the terrible Queen, rose before him. With great reluctance and a slight sense of shame, he spoke again. "She made me understand that I must keep it. It could not have stayed in Lothlorien."

"If I understand the matter well, then that was the last time that you tried to pass on the responsibility of the Quest to another."

"It was the last, and only time, since I was appointed to hold it." Frodo fidgeted impatiently. "Forgive me, but I do not understand why you are asking me these things. How does it change what I did at Mount Doom?"

The change those words wrought upon the King was startling. Aragorn leaned forward and said with intensity: "Do not presume to question me, Ring-bearer. You yourself begged me not to spare you from my law. I have granted you your request. But whilst I may consent to judge you, I will do so on my own terms as is my right and privilege. And I deem that all matters leading up to your deeds at the Sammath Naur bear examination. I will not judge on partial truths."

Shocked, Frodo stepped back involuntarily, and then bowed his head in contrition. "I am sorry." He wrung his hands in anguish. "Please forgive me. I have been anxious to receive judgement, and I have chafed at what has seemed delay. I will not do so again."

"See that you do not." But the King's tone of voice was gentler. "I understand your trepidation, but I will not absolve you of your own responsibility. You must bear the passage of time and answer my questions, unwilling though you may be, until I give you my verdict."

Frodo's head remained bowed. "What would you have me do?"

"You offered the Ring only once, you said, and you were refused. I would have you lead me through your journey with the Ring from that time forth. It seems to me, from what I have learned of your story, that, other than Samwise, only two knew of your purpose and your burden once you left the Fellowship: Gollum and Lord Faramir. Is this true?"

"It is true."

"Gollum knew well that you had the Ring. Did you even once tell him of your errand?"

Frodo looked up then. "Never. I could not have done so, or it would have all been in vain. Gollum would have kept us from Mordor if he had known of my intent."

"Yet he must have desired to touch the Ring. Tell me about this."

"I did not permit any casual talk of the thing. Only twice before he left us did we speak of it at any length. The first time was when I bound him to a promise to guide us to Mordor. He insisted upon swearing by it."

Aragorn leaned forward again. "Swear by it? But you allowed him no sight of it?"

Frodo shook his head vehemently. "No. Never. That wouldn't have done at all. No. Thereafter, I spoke of it only once when he attempted to convince me to give it back to him. I warned him off." Here Frodo faltered. "I tried to make him understand the danger of the Ring. I... I knew that he was in danger of being completely lost to its power."

"Completely? You felt that there was still hope for him, even then?" Aragorn frowned. "Not many would have been of your opinion."

"No," Frodo whispered. "Sam was not. And in the end, he was more clear-sighted than I." But he could speak no further, and he looked away.

Aragorn waited somberly for a moment, but when it seemed that Frodo was not yet willing to resume, he got up from the throne. "Wait for my return," he said, not ungently. "We need not talk of Gollum any further."

Frodo watched Aragorn stride through the hall. With a ragged sigh, he sank down upon the stone steps and cradled his head upon his knees.

* * *

It was not long before Aragorn returned, but Frodo was lost within memories. It took the King's hand upon his shoulder to bring him back to the present, and he sprang up apologizing.

"Be at peace, Frodo. You have broken no protocol. Do you have need of rest?"

"No," Frodo answered firmly. "I wish to continue."

"Then we shall do so." Aragorn, remaining on the lowest step, looked at Frodo thoughtfully. "Do you believe that your deed at the Sammath Naur stood alone?"

Frodo looked back at him startled. "I don't understand your meaning."

"Usually our deeds work in concert with our actions and beliefs. There is a path that leads the way to most deeds if we can but find it. You tell me of your crime, as you put it, but I see no path. I find it passing strange that it should be so."

Frodo opened his mouth, but no words came.

"I want to find this path. Aid me, Frodo! It seems to me that you acted wisely around Gollum, although some would call you foolish. You did not say just now, but I already knew that you spared his life even while you forbade his seeing the Ring. But I said that we would talk no more of this for now, and I will not break my word. What of Faramir, then? Tell me of your dealings with him!"

Once more Frodo was at a loss. Distressed, he shook his head almost violently. "I cannot say. The closer we come to Mordor, the more my memory fails me. I can recall only quick snatches of words, brief glimpses of events -- not enough for me to show you a... a path."

Aragorn nodded his head slowly, somberly. "There is one other who may help us. If I were to call in Faramir..."

"Yes, please!" Frodo said quickly. He looked at Aragorn in entreaty. "I wish to hear what he remembers. I... I do not want to remain unaware..."

Aragorn said not a word but went to a small silver gong which stood by the side of the throne. He struck it once, and a clear note rang out. Immediately, the door opened and a Guard of the Citadel entered. Frodo watched as Aragorn spoke not a word but instead through the briefest of hand motions communicated with the man. A moment later the Guard was gone and the door closed.

It was not long before Lord Faramir was bidden to enter the Hall. Once more, Aragorn was sitting on the throne, and Frodo stood on the steps to the side.

Faramir bowed before the King. "You asked for me?"

"I did. I would ask of you some questions concerning the Ring-bearer and his journey. Do you remember your encounter with him well?"

Faramir looked at Frodo."Very well."

"What was his intent when you spoke with him?"

"At first he would not say," said Faramir. "But once trust grew between us, he told me that it was his doom to enter Morder and to destroy the Dark Lord's ring in the Mountain of Fire."

"And did you feel that this was truly his intent, or merely a recitation of a previous command."

Faramir started forward in surprise, and then stood still. "It was his own intent. There was no dissembling. I can swear to it."

Aragorn nodded slightly. "I will take your word. It is enough. But I would understand further how Frodo spoke of the Ring to you."

Faramir gave a slightly rueful laugh. "Forgive me, my King, but he was far more cautious than I, when I pressed him hard with questions. No matter how I tried, he evaded me and would not tell me of Isildur's Bane. My eagerness to understand the matter was shown in an ill light next to his reserve. But his purpose was undone when Samwise revealed the true nature of the... heirloom."

"But Sam did not mean to do so," Frodo said quickly. "He had grown too easy in his storytelling and did not realize the danger until it was too late."

"He speaks truly," said Faramir. "But even when all was revealed, the Ring-bearer's mien did not alter. The Ring was a grave matter to him and he did not speak of it lightly."

"Is there any other thing that you may tell me," said Aragorn, "in connection to Frodo's regard of the Ring?"

Faramir frowned. "Only this: even as he turned my questions aside, he said this one thing: It does not belong to me. It does not belong to any mortal, great or small; though if any could claim it, it would be Aragorn son of Arathorn. I wondered at these words, for this was the first time I had heard mention of you."

Aragorn did not respond to that but turned to Frodo. "Do you have any recollection of these things?"

Frodo thought for a moment. "I remember what he said of Sam, and that he questioned me at length, but anything of detail? Or of what I said? I am sorry, but I cannot."

"He was under great duress," said Faramir. His eyes held a hint of concern. "I had grave doubts that he would be able to do what he had described. Indeed, I felt that no warrior, strong or bold, would have met with success on such a perilous journey. Nevertheless, I did not doubt his sincerity."

"I thank you, Faramir, for your words and your memories," Aragorn said after a moment of thought.

Faramir inclined his head. "Will you have further need of me?"

"No. I will not. Thank you."

"Then I will give you this brief report. The greatest of the wains are ready and will move out to Osgiliath as soon as I give word. And on the morrow, the Riders of Rohan return to Edoras. Eomer and Eowyn will be with them."

Aragorn nodded then. "Thank you, Faramir."

"My King." Faramir turned and strode away.

Aragorn turned to Frodo. "You will miss your teacher in the Houses of Healing."

"I will," said Frodo. "She has shown me great kindness. I shall be sad to see her go."

"Leave then. We have spoken enough today. Go and spend what time you may in learning under the guidance of Lady Eowyn. But tomorrow, we will meet once more before I pronounce my judgement. If there is aught that you can remember that will aid us in following your path towards the deed at Mount Doom, then think of it!"

The Guards approached the dais. Frodo bowed deeply, and was escorted from the King's presence.

To be continued.