Part Six ~ The Edge of the World

It could be argued that there was little reason to press on when it was possible that Arwen and Eowyn had never survived their encounter with the stone giant. However, none of the Fellowship were prepared to accept this as a given in any shape or form. As long as their husbands believed they were still alive, the Fellowship would continue their journey to find the two women. Elladan and Elrohir would have abandoned their duties at Imraldis to accompany the Fellowship in their search if Aragorn asked it of them. Arwen was their sister after all and the Evenstar as she was known to the elves was their fairest daughter. They felt the same concern as he did. However, Aragorn stayed their hand. He had no wish to usurp the wishes of Elrond who desired that they remain to oversee the elves’ departure from Middle Earth nor did he wish the Lord of Rivendell be placed in a position where all three of his children were endangered, not just the one.

They remained in Rivendell long enough to rest and to be provided with fresh supplies before they resumed their journey towards Lindon and the Grey Havens. It was a journey Aragorn and the hobbits knew well and while they had been coming to Rivendell instead of departing from it, the reason for their travel seemed no less urgent then it had been when they were attempting to deliver the One Ring to Rivendell. Still, despite the dark quest ahead of them, there was time enough for Aragorn and the hobbits to feel some measure of nostalgia in travelling the road taken once more and together. Aragorn could not help wonder at all the changes that had taken place in his life since he had last been in this part of the world.

"The world changes my love," Arwen had said. "You have simply changed with it."

He remembered her words to him the night before he left and was filled with a profound sense of longing for her. Aragorn hoped she was all right and wished he was with her, being strong for her while she shouldered the terrible knowledge about their child’s future. It made him angry inside when he thought at how happy she had been to bear his child only to have that joy tainted by such a vicious act of evil. This should have been her moment to savor and enjoy, not ruined by such black possibility. Whoever the Enemy was, Aragorn would grind his bones to dust for the joy he had stolen from Arwen with his dark plans.

Making the crossing from Rivendell to Bree was a good deal faster because they made the trip on horseback and were soon at Weathertop. Aragorn had chosen the place to make camp because he knew the terrain and the height of the hill was also a good lookout point to watch for approaching enemies. When he had led the hobbits here all those years ago, they had been fleeing from the Nazghul, Sauron’s dark Ring Wraiths. While the servants of the new Enemy were not as fearsome as the Nazghul, Aragorn was not prepared to take chances, not when he needed to reach Arwen as quickly as possible.

The Fellowship began to establish camp as the sun started to set in the horizon with Sam taking the liberty of cooking as always. For Sam, whose occupation in life was seeing to Mr. Frodo’s comfort often found it easy to extend that area of responsibility to the Fellowship when the need arose. Since their departure from Minas Tirith, Sam had been ensuring that everyone was rested and fed when they were out in the open. Aragorn was convinced that it was the hobbit’s way of keeping some order to his existence when so much around him was in chaos. Nevertheless, Sam was a good cook and Aragorn could live with it if the hobbit gave their position away to the enemy by the aroma of his culinary expertise.

"Legolas," Aragorn called out to the archer who was sitting upon one of the ruined rocks that were once a part of the fortifications built on top of the hill, watching the surrounding area with vigilance. "Gimli and I are going to scout the area, keep your eye sharp."

Legolas nodded as Aragorn and the dwarf left the campsite. The elf returned his gaze to the lands surrounding Weathertop and immediately reminded himself that its true name was actually Amun Sul. The remnants of the tower that had been built there still remained on the hill even after two thousand years. Some of it had blended into the landscape so that it was difficult to tell where the hill ended and the tower began. He sensed no immediate danger in the vicinity but saw no reason to be complacent either. There was much darkness afoot in this quest and they all needed to be on their guard to survive it.

The elf swept his gaze across his camp and saw that his companions were engaged in their own undertakings as they settled down to rest from the day’s journey. Faramir was seeing to the horses and would join them shortly, while Merry and Pippin were around the fire with Sam, no doubt attracted by the mouth-watering aroma of Sam’s efforts as cook. Gandalf was seated on a rock, his wizened eyes staring into the horizon as he enjoyed smoking his pipe. Frodo however, appeared anxious as his eyes crisscrossed the area. Legolas knotted his brow in confusion, wondering what it was that vexed the hobbit so. Frodo’s mental state and health had not recovered, as it should since the War of the Ring. Although Sam had not spoken of it much, Legolas suspected that being a Ring Bearer had left lasting effects upon the gentle halfling.

Legolas was not the only one to notice Frodo’s state of mind. Gandalf had been mindful of Frodo’s condition ever since the hobbit had arrived at Minas Tirith for the celebration. Gandalf wished Aragorn had chose another place to camp the night because this place had too much weight upon Frodo’s memories. It was here that the Nazghul blade had penetrated the hobbit’s skin for the first time and left him with a wound that not even time could heal. The hobbit that had set out from the Shire with the One Ring was not the same as the one before him and more than anyone else, save perhaps Sam, Gandalf mourned the loss of the former. Gandalf had hoped returning to the Shire might rekindle Frodo’s spirit somewhat but upon seeing him at the White City, it was clear that did not happen. While he seemed a little like his old self during this quest, it was not enough. He was not getting better and if he remained in Middle Earth any longer, Gandalf was certain he would deteriorate to a point of no return.

"Frodo," Gandalf called out to the hobbit that was unsuccessfully trying to sit quietly and ignore the memories the place invoked him. "Come join me."

Frodo was glad for something to do and he joined Gandalf at the edge of the hill. As he settled next to the older man, Frodo gazed into the distance and tried to see the Shire from here. He could not. Yet even if he could, it would offer him little comfort. There were too many ghosts here for him to every be relaxed on Weathertop. Frodo took a deep breath of the smoke Gandalf was exhaling and immediately recognized it as South Farthing, the finest weed to be grown in the Shire. Gandalf had an unusual fondness for the stuff and kept a good supply on himself at all times.

"You and Bilbo are incorrigible with your weed," Frodo remarked with a bemused smile as he stared at the wizard.

"We recognize the finer things in life," Gandalf replied, completely unrepentant on this one issue. "You might take a lesson in that. You need to relax."

"I can’t," Frodo answered much quicker than he should have. "Not in this place. It has too many unpleasant memories." His eyes darted about the area anxiously. There was nothing to fear and he knew it but his mind seemed trapped on that terrible night when he had stared a Nazghul in the face, such as it was and felt the bite of its blade in his skin. His whole life had changed in that one moment and it was still changing, even now.

"Should I ask Strider to move our camp?" Gandalf asked gently, perfectly willing to do it if it would ease Frodo’s fears.

"No," Frodo shook his head immediately. "He has enough things to worry about and this is just a place, I am being foolish."

"There’s nothing foolish about what you went through Frodo, " Gandalf pointed out. "The One Ring would have broken lesser men but you prevailed. You are stronger than you believe yourself to be. Even I did not know how strong until you carried the Ring."

Frodo cracked a little smile at the compliment but it did not possess any warmth, "and yet all I feel is this coldness that will not go away. I try to go on and being on this quest with Strider has helped a little but I still feel empty and there are also the bouts of sickness that seem to appear from time to time."

"Maybe its time you left Middle earth, Frodo," Gandalf said softly after a long pause. Frodo was a Ring Bearer and what he had been through had certainly earned him the right to take his place among the Endless of the western shore. In the Undying Lands, there was the skill to heal his wound and forever remove the blight it had caused upon his psyche. In that other world, he could be assured of never being harmed again and live a life longer than he could possibly dream.

"Leave?" Frodo stared at him in shock.

"Yes," Gandalf nodded. "Come with me to the Western Lands. I will be going sooner than you think and so will Bilbo and Galadriel and eventually all the elves in this realm."

"But what about Sam and Merry and…" he started to say when he realised that they did not really need him. Sam had Rosie and his own life. Merry was looking to marry Estella Bolger while Pippin was forming similar attachments with Diamond of Long Cleeve. Only he remained in flux and it occurred to him now that even if he left, their lives would go on as they should and they would find happiness without him.

"I believed you know the answer to that question already," Gandalf smiled knowingly. "Shelob’s poison and the Nazghul blade has done great harm to you Frodo. It keeps you from achieving the peace you desire. I am sorry for that Frodo, it was never my intention to sour the world for you when I set you on the road to Bree with the One Ring. However, if you are not happy in this world then perhaps it is time to find solace in another. Come with me Frodo and though I cannot promise you true happiness for not even a wizard is fool enough to make such a claim, you may find a new way for yourself."

Frodo did not answer right away because what might have once seemed to be a preposterous suggestion now appeared to be the only way left to him.

If only he dared to take it.