Chapter Seventeen: Wounds Underneath

Frodo spent much time in the iaun in the next weeks, more than anywhere else and the first tendrils of peace took deeper root in him. He had asked early on if he could have a candle beside his bed. Elrond approved and so now there was also a small candle enclosed in a clear glass that burned beside Frodo’s softly glowing figure in the bed. At rare times Bilbo came with him to that dark and holy room, the elder hobbit once remarking that he had spent a lot of time there himself while Frodo had been away on the Quest, staring at the candles that had been lit. But little time did that ancient one now spend outside his room. Most of the time Frodo was alone, but for Sam’s presence.

All the progress he had made though came close to unraveling after winter passed and the anniversary of Sam’s death, shortly followed by the loss of the Ring, came. In the iaun, Frodo had slowly and painfully sorted out the blame for his beloved friend’s death and properly ascribed it to Sauron. It had not been easy to do, but he had had help, other hands covering his as he labored to mend back together the torn pieces of his heart. But then the anniversaries came and attempted to rip his heart apart anew. The grief over Sam’s death was ebbing slowly as he felt his brother’s continued presence and love, but with that no longer overwhelming him, he became more aware of other griefs that had always been there but had been overshadowed by the worst of his pain. Sometimes he even slept in the iaun, needing that extra support as new pain assaulted his fragile recovery. He cried at times again, something he had almost stopped doing and he knew it just wasn’t for Sam anymore, but for the Ring and for himself, for the terrible violation and longing that shamed him. Those times he would have shunned Sam’s presence and the One Elrond had said he could call Father, had he been able to bear doing so, but instead he was held tighter by both. When he longed to call for the Ring, he curled on his side on a bench in the iaun, clutched the gem that Arwen had given him, and repeated Sam’s name and the Other’s over and over to try to drown out the other voices in his head. He kept going until he was beyond hoarse, his voice choked with tears and his fingers cramped from holding the gem so tightly. Then he heard his own name repeated back to him from the two he named and he cried even more, but not from pain.

Gandalf, Elrond and Bilbo who had silently rejoiced at Frodo’s continued recovery now began to worry again. Time was approaching when many of the Elves would be leaving Rivendell for the West and with them, Bilbo, whose health was failing with his advanced age and would need healing in the West for his own unquenched longing for the Ring. He, who seemed to have recovered from blaming himself for Sam’s death, now flailed in the churning waters of old grief as he saw again what he had done to the beloved son of his heart in bequeathing the Ring to him.

"I should have never given it to him," the ancient hobbit said in as much a litany as the one that Frodo said for the same deliverance.

"It was the right thing to do, dear Bilbo," Gandalf interrupted one day, upon hearing it, "You could not have borne it much longer without the whole of Middle-earth being devoured by it."

"No, just the heart of that sweet, beautiful, innocent, loving lad had to be devoured," Bilbo said bitterly. "I should have let Gollum devour me instead."

"Then where would Frodo be or the rest of the world? He would have not been brought up by you, would not have the experience of being loved by you or taught Elvish tales, probably not even met Sam. He would not be the person he was created to be. The Ring would have fallen to another owner, not as well-suited. No, Bilbo, don’t agonize over what if’s and could have been’s. Our wisdom is not the Creator’s. Our vision does not stretch as far or wide or deep as His. We cannot see all ends. He can and does and orders things as they should be, not as we would think they should be. I, too, wish Frodo had been spared this, and you had, but it was his very innocence that made him who he is and the only one that could do the task that had been appointed to him, long, long before you were ever born to make any decision about it yourself. He was given the strength to get to the Fire. The same One who gave that will also give him the strength to get back."

"And perhaps make him leave the Shire again. I don’t think there will be rest for him here. I wonder how he can bear to look at me at times."

"And he has wondered how you can bear to look at him, but I’m afraid you are stuck together and I dare say, happy to be so."

"Nothing makes me happier than to be with him, you know that well, and nothing breaks my heart more. I’m old, Gandalf. I know I am not long for this world. But I’m not going to go until I know my boy is all right."

"Stubborn Baggins," the wizard said with a fond smile.

Bilbo looked up at his friend and smiled back. "Where do you think he got that from?" He looked away as his features clouded over again. "I should have been more so when you made me give up the Ring."

"I didn’t make you do anything, my dear hobbit. You found the strength in yourself to do that."

"I wouldn’t have without all your badgering."

"Then I’m glad to have been there to shore up your will, but it was still your choice."

"And the poorest one I ever made. Had I known what it would do to him, I would have never done it."

"Then it is good that you didn’t. The future is not ours to know, Bilbo, nor the destiny of any for us to shape, try as we might at times to do so. We need only to walk the Path that has been laid for us and trust in the One Who does know all that it is for our benefit and others that we tramp through all the bogs and brambles and thorns along the Road and though we may be cut badly and wish to find a clearer, wider Path, it is the one that we are on, if we remain guided by the Light, that will bring us to where we should be and not the one that seemingly has no troubles at all."

Bilbo looked up at his friend darkly. "You’ve never had a child, Gandalf, that you’ve given a treasure to and found out it was blackest poison instead."

"You are wrong there, dear friend," the wizard said and the hobbit was surprised to hear his voice full of pain. "I have many of Ilúvatar’s children under my care. I’m the one who sent Frodo on his way with far more knowledge of the Ring than you had and it was Frodo who accepted the burden with much of the same knowledge, again far more than you had. You did not give him poison willingly or knowingly. You are blameless in that. You were kept from that knowledge so you could give it away, so it would come to its new owner: the one its master, had he but known, would have least intended it to go, but the one it was indeed meant to go to. Don’t blame yourself for fulfilling your Creator’s will, though you knew it not at the time."

"I just wish he could heal. If none of this could have been stopped and was all meant to be, and I still have a very hard time believing that, then I just wish it he could be free of the pain."

"That is my prayer also. The hurt itself was not meant, but it was known it was going to happen. Frodo himself knew he was going into danger and even when it had already almost taken his life, he still stepped forward. He didn’t know all that it would do to him. He would have been even more terrified than he already was. It is best that we ourselves do not see too far, too clearly down the Road or our frail spirits would collapse under the burden. Better to trust in the One who can see and let Him guide our steps so our will is strengthened by His. Frodo did that. We can pray that he will continue to do so."

* * *

Elrond approached Frodo as he stood looking down at a waterfall.

"Sometimes I wish I could jump in that and made clean and whole again," the Ring-bearer murmured. "But I wonder if the entire Sea is enough to wash it all away."

"Have you considered my daughter’s offer?"

Frodo clutched the gem Arwen had given him. "Yes, hir nin. It is my only hope I think, though I wonder if I dare take it." He looked up at the Elf-lord. "Do they have an iaun there?"

Elrond smiled gravely at the great hope in the Ring-bearer’s voice. "Yes, they do."

Frodo sighed in relief. That made his decision easier. There was only one other thing he needed to know. Will you make it, Sam? I won’t go if you can’t.

He felt Sam’s smile fill him and smooth a bit the jagged edges of his wounds. I will make it, dear.

But Rose and your family...I know they will miss you and even having you with them like you are now is a comfort.

Sam’s love filled even more. My place is with you.

Thank you, my Sam.

"I cannot stay here," he said aloud. "And I cannot go back home but to say goodbye. Bilbo fades daily and I wonder if he will even be able to make the journey."

"He will make it," Elrond replied, "as you will if you make that choice."

Frodo felt Sam’s love bolster him. "I will go. But will even that be enough I wonder? I was feeling better, but now all is darkness again."

"The Light will not forsake you, Iorhael."

"I just hope I won’t forsake it," Frodo said then left before he heard Elrond’s response.

"That is my prayer for you," the Elf-lord said softly then went to the iaun to light another candle. He thought of another that could perhaps be guardian to the Ring-bearer’s anguished soul, a kindred spirit of sorts. He knelt on the floor, staring at the red light. "Please, ada. Please. Guide him to her and her to him. Guard them both." He had barely spoke when he felt in his heart that his prayer had been heard and answered. He bowed his head. "Le hannon, ada, le hannon." And then to the one who would help his friend, "Le hannon, meleth nin."