Chapter Fifteen: Glimmering Light

Frodo woke the next morning, still resting against Bilbo’s chest, to feel his uncle stroking his curls and he lay there for a little bit, simply savoring that. Bilbo was murmuring in a voice broken by tears that Frodo now and then felt fall onto his head. "My dear, sweet, lovely boy, what have I done to you?"

The younger Ring-bearer raised his head, looked into his uncle’s tear-filled eyes and gently wiped at those tears that traveled down the worn, beloved face. "Do not cry, Uncle. You have done nothing to me."

"Nothing but left you that conflustergated thing. Oh, my lad, I look into your eyes now and see a ravaged heart where once there was such light and cheer, it seemed the sun streamed right through you. I’m so sorry, son of my heart, I’m so very sorry."

Frodo laid his head back down and listened to the heartbeat that had soothed him many a night as a tween at Bag End after waking from nightmares or at anytime anything had upset him. He had always felt everything so deeply, joys as well as sorrows. He was blessed to have known those who had understood that, like his Uncle and his Sam. Oh, Sam... His own eyes filled and he had to take several deep breaths until he thought he would be calm enough to speak without those tears being heard. He was the one who needed to be strong this time. He felt Sam’s love flow through him and he held onto that for the great security it had always been. "It is not your fault, Uncle. Please don’t think so. It is the doing of the Ring."

Bilbo continued his gentle stroking. "I shouldn’t have left it for you. I should have taken it with me. I didn’t want to leave it. But Gandalf thought it best that I did and so I doomed you."

"You did not doom me, dearest Bilbo. I have often wished you never found it either, but you were meant to so you could give it to me. I know you meant no harm by it."

"I don’t believe for a moment that Sam’s death was meant to be. I might as well have done that myself for it was me who gave you the blade that killed him. How could I ever face the Gaffer now and let him know it was my fault that his son is dead?"

Frodo wrapped his arms around his uncle tighter. "I have already faced him and told him it was my fault and he has forgiven me. It was not you that killed him, Uncle. If you had not given me Sting, then the Ring would have found another way to kill him. You are blameless, dearheart. Your gifts actually saved my life. The Ring is gone because of them."

There was a long pause, then Bilbo spoke very softly. "I miss it sometimes, you know."

Frodo’s response was long in coming also. "So do I, but I miss Sam more. It is gone, Uncle. Forever beyond our reach or anyone else’s. That couldn’t have been done without you finding it first. That was a great good you did, not a great evil."

"It seems a lot of evil came out of it though. I nearly attacked you to get a look at it. You were attacked by those terrible wraiths and wounded nigh unto death. And all those other terrible things that happened to you because of it. It should have been me that all happened to. I had found it. It was my burden. It should not have been yours."

Frodo raised his head. "It was appointed to be mine, Uncle. It would have overtaken you, just as it overtook me in the end, but for you the end would have been swifter and the world would have fallen with you. It was too much for any of us to bear, but I was the one chosen."

Bilbo looked back into his beloved nephew’s eyes and saw such love and compassion and suffering there. His vision was blurred by tears and maybe that was what made Frodo seem to shine unusually bright in the torchlight.

"Chosen by who, I wonder?"

"I don’t know, Uncle. Not by the Ring. I’m sure of that. I felt another Presence protecting me, not just Sam. And even after Sam died, I still felt our gardener guarding me. I have seen him. He is right here with us, even now. And I have felt the other Presence also with me."

"Then why didn’t it stop you from falling, from Sam dying?"

"I don’t know that either, Bilbo dear. Somehow it was all allowed to happen the way it did. Yes, a lot of evil has happened since you picked up the Ring, but you did not will any of it. And a lot of great good has happened too because you picked it up."

"But Sam is still dead. He would still be alive if..."

"Would he, Uncle? Why were you there just at the right moment to pick up the Ring? It had abandoned its bearer and was trying to find its way back to its master, but your hand fell upon it in the dark. Gandalf told me that was the strangest thing that had ever happened in the entire history of it. It certainly did not will you to do it, but it had little choice in the matter. Another Will had over-ruled it. And so it came to you so it could come to me so I could bring it to the Fire. It burned through me long before I came there, but still it is gone now and that was all that was intended. Its power was too great for any created being, mortal or immortal, to withstand. What if someone else of lesser strength had found it or what if it had woken sooner and taken you? We may all have been dead then. No, it all came about as it did to achieve the one end of its destruction."

"Even Sam’s death?"

Frodo did not answer for a long time. That had always been the most senseless thing, but he said, "Yes, somehow even that." And he knew it was true, even if he couldn’t understand how. As he laid his head back down and embraced his uncle tighter, he felt Sam’s arms around him as well. The infection continued to drain.