Frodo.
Legacy Name: Frodo.

Nine had entered the dark depths of Moria. Eight stumbled out, temporarily blinded by the sun after so much shadow. But no warmth could be felt on their bodies. Even after the desperate running and fighting through the last stretch of the goblin infested mines, not one sought to mend minor wounds or check equipment and supplies. A shared numbness had settled over the group, before the emotions of sadness and grief burst forth.

Gandalf was gone.

Such simple words for such a painful truth they related. Those among the group who had counted the grey wizard friend, mellon, felt the pain settle deeply within their hearts. Even those who had not known him long felt his loss keenly. Gandalf had been their guide, their leader, their strength.

Could ones so weakened continue on?

Frodo already knew the answer to that. He had not stopped once since leaving Moria. It wasn't so much a conscious decision on his part, but more a defence mechanism. Stopping now would allow his mind to process what had occurred on that thrice cursed bridge. To do so was to make it a reality.

It couldn't be real, though. Surely, Gandalf would burst from the cave entrance any moment now, frowning in disappointment at the sad state the fellowship was in.

Why should Frodo have to accept his death?

Accept the fact that he would never see one of his oldest friends again? Never see Gandalf's fireworks paint the night sky? Never again share an afternoon listening to the wizard's stories of places and people so far away from Frodo's happy yet dull home? Say his final goodbye to the man who had brought wonder and beauty back into a young orphan hobbit's life? Without Gandalf and Bilbo in his life Frodo wondered if his heart would ever have healed after the death of his parents.

Now, Frodo had to lose another loved one?

"Frodo!"
Aragorn's voice cut across the distance Frodo had covered in his mindless stumbling over the rocks.

Too late, Frodo forgot his resolve to keep moving and stopped at the command he heard in the future king's voice. He gasped as sharp pains cut through his heart, as if the Morgul-blade had finally achieved its dark deed. But no, this was far worse. it wasn't his life that had ended, but another's.

Gandalf was dead.

Frodo's knees buckled and threatened to give while his vision blurred with tears. His breaths came out shaky and uneven. It all happened in the space of a few moments until the pain seemed to break away from his heart and his sense cleared, his body coming back to full function once more. He was unaware though that when he turned back towards group he had nearly left behind that his face showed the dull, lifelessness he felt within. No one commented on this and the fellowship, down one gray wizard, trudged onward with their quest with a solemn yet determined Aragorn at it's head. It wasn't until much later, sitting beside the campfire with cold rations in his hands that Frodo was able to break free from the haze of grief. He was startled to see a red imprint in the shape of the ring and its chain ingrained on his right palm.

He hadn't remembered grabbing it in the first place.

Frodo's mind was too weary to ponder that development now, and by morning it was forgotten. Now, he only wanted to rest his body, which ached on through to his soul. Frodo stood and handed his uneaten food to Legolas, who stowed it back in their supplies without a word. The elf had known the chances of a meal being eaten were slim and had chosen the rations to prevent wasted food. Rations could be repacked, while cooked food would only have been thrown away. Frodo couldn't manage anything more than a vague recognition of the fair being's thoughtfulness but Legolas was too far withdrawn in his own emotions to have noticed any kindness the hobbit might have paid him.

Frodo retrieved his sleeping roll and quietly set it up for the night. It was a sad irony that on the night Frodo was guaranteed not to find sleep that the camp was quiet enough for a restful night. Usually nights were filled with the noises of voices, laughter, arguments, and songs. Now, though, only the crackling of the fire and the music of the wilderness around them was present. Frodo lay with his back to both the fire and the company that surrounded it. As exhausted as he was Frodo knew his mind wouldn't allow him the peace he needed to truly sleep as it tormented him with fond memories past and the almost painfully clear recollection of Gandalf's fall. So he merely closed his eyes and let the tears fall.

He managed alight doze during the night and it was then that his hand once more sought the golden band around his neck. Within his heart, in the great chasm caused by Gandalf's death, a dark presence settled. There was still time to wait but it was patient. After all, it had already waited so very long to see its master again. A few months journey was but a trifle.

Soon, very soon, it would be home.

“Frodo: I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.”
“Gandalf: So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

Darkness was falling faster now.

Not in the life-forsaken land he now found himself in, no. Within Frodo though it was as if a great shutter was being drawn down. Obscuring everything he was until only shadows remained. His very life seemed to be leached out of him, like water being absorbed into the parched grounds of this dead land. In place of himself something else was taking hold. Corrupting, twisting, bending everything to it's will.

Starting with the being that dared seek to destroy it's existence.

Frodo hobbled and stumbled over the steep slopes of Mt. Doom. Awareness of everything around him had narrowed down to where he would put his foot next and how to prevent himself from fully falling to the ground. He failed to truly hear the sounds around him, a symphony of every noise one would associate with nightmares. Failed to feel how the sharp rocks dug and cut his hardy hobbit-feet, even though his companion couldn't always smother his winces of pain. Frodo also never knew how closely Sam was watching him, privately arguing with himself over what he could possibly do to help his friend now.

Frodo was fading with every step he took.

An apathy was settling over the hobbit. A passiveness, while he was being broken down and built back up into something malleable. He seemed to be watching himself from the outside, realizing that he was losing himself but lacking much in the strength to fight it. He was fighting though, bitterly, but it was like a small voice shouting in a large crowd. Like a single hobbit in the midst of all those that tower over and ignore them. Why had Frodo volunteered to do this deed? Even Bilbo had left it behind and moved himself far away. And Frodo had expected to do better? Yes, he was here in Mordor, walking distance away from the place he could finally stop everything this ring stood for and leave the free races of Middle Earth truly free, but another had come this far and had failed. Why was Frodo any different?

He remembered that day in Rivendell, when amongst all the fighting he had stated his resolve to head out on this quest. He remembered clearest of all Gandalf's face when he heard the words fall from the hobbit's lips. Gandalf had known he would fail, had probably only let Frodo do it because he needed someone to bear the ring and here someone had volunteered for the task.

'No!' Frodo cried out in his mind, his heart, 'Gandalf would never have used me as some sacrificial lamb. '

The remaining part of Frodo's mind that remembered all that was good and all whom he fought for knew that for certain. But he did feel like livestock on it's way to slaughter and the ring only used that as fuel to it's fire. The ring was power, however dark and tainted it was, and it fed on weaknesses like a glutton, to sway the unsuspecting to fall before it and its master. It had whispered to Frodo all throughout his journey and for a long time it had been easy to ignore, an annoyance, like a bug that would not leave his side.

But now it was quiet, a calm before the storm, a snake waiting to strike. Silently destroying from within until Frodo collapsed.

It had taken a long time for the ring to truly slip through the hobbit's defences though, Frodo had felt its frustration trickle through to him a few times. This being had no thirst for power like weak race of men. He was not like the elves who would reclaim their people from the brink of obscurity and reshape this world anew. Even the others of Frodo's kind had been different. The other had only coveted it, hidden it away and cherished it like a valued possession. A broken mind that was of no use to anyone. And then the ring had been discovered by Bilbo who had also been unlike anyone the ring had previously encountered. These beings, these hobbits would not submit willingly.

So the ring would subjugate and destroy instead.

And as the eye of its master fell upon the fading form of Frodo Baggins and seemed to burn him outside and in like a child uses glass and the sun to burn an unsuspecting bug the ring began its final attack.

While Frodo began to fall.

“I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things, Sam.”
- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King - Frodo Baggins

The first thing he was aware of was the sunlight warming his skin.

It had been so long since he had seen the sun, since he has felt it's rays upon his skin. Even before the ash clouded sky of Mordor and the dark mountains of the Nazgul and Shelob Frodo could not remember the simple joy of basking in the sun. Not since he had placed the burden of the ring upon his neck.

So far had he travelled from his home, and himself. All the wonders and heartache of his journey had been tainted by cold, exhaustion, and quickly fading sense of self. Now for the first time in many months Frodo could believe he had once been a simple Hobbit living in the Shire and would one day see it again.

For the first time in so long Frodo finally felt alive.

He now carried many scars, both above and below the skin, and his heart would always weigh heavy with the betrayals and deaths of friends. It would also be stronger for the loyalty and bravery he had discovered as well. The good in Middle Earth that had carried him on when his body was failing. Stronger because of a hobbit who had never left his side, no matter how far into shadow Frodo had been cast.

Even if he alone had carried the ring it had truly been a fellowship, the work of many, that had finally seen the evil destroyed.

Middle Earth was free. It would enter a new age now that the darkness had been pushed back once more. There was still much Frodo didn't know. Many fates and destinies of people he had left behind but never forgotten. Still a home that he yearned to see once more. first though, he needed to wake up.

Frodo's eyes slid open and it did not take him long to recognize the ceiling above him and soft bed he lay upon. Once more he was in the debt, and deep gratitude, of the House of Elrond Half-Elven. Letting the thought be for now he sat up and for a moment thought an elf was standing at the foot of his bed. But no it wasn't an elf.

And in the space of second Frodo's heart stopped and restarted, pounding in excited disbelief.

"Gandalf", the words uttered in a tone barely above a whisper but carrying a fraction of the immeasurable joy pulsing through the young hobbit. Then Gandalf laughed and it was like the world was born again and with it the possibilities of a tomorrow that could now exist. In the following procession of reunited friends and stories of adventures and battles that lasted long after the sun had disappeared from the sky, life settled back into place. New and familiar all at once.

Gone was Frodo the Ringbearer, his final resting place the fires of Mt. Doom. Frodo Baggins, Hobbit of the Shire and Saviour of Middle Earth, stood in his place ready to live again.

“How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart, you begin to understand, there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep...that have taken hold.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King - Frodo Baggins

Story by Dis
Story, theme & characters based off J.R.R Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings
Pet & Minion overlays by Rathoren
Chibi Frodo by Hannah66665
Profile & Coding by sonata