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The Ring-Bearer’s Guilt
The passage had been excellent in the four days since they had sailed from Middle Earth. Frodo supposed that it wouldn’t have really been any other way. Though Lady Galadriel and Lord Celebron had no command over the wind and sea, their very presence seemed soothing upon the elements. Their trip was but in its infancy however, and Frodo wasn’t sure how far the peace of the Elves could extend once land passed from their sight. Their ship was of excellent craftsmanship, naturally, and Frodo’s journey as yet had been pleasantly comfortable. Sharing some handsome, Hobbit-sized quarters with Bilbo, when Frodo wasn’t in the company of his elderly Uncle, he was to be found with Gandalf, or sitting in the aura of the Lady and her party.
Yet as serene as everything thus far had been, Frodo felt unsettled. The sadness of leaving The Shire tugged at his heart, but there was a deeper vexation that he could only too clearly comprehend, but knew not what to do about. So here in the bow of this beautiful ship he sat, with the stars as company and the night as a cloak, and worry weighing upon his soul. So absorbed was he that he didn’t even notice the soft footsteps of his friend, or the familiar swish of the trusted wizard’s robe.
“Why is your heart troubled?” Gandalf seated himself beside the Hobbit, also staring unseeingly at the unchartered night horizon. “I see it in your eyes, Frodo,” He said, as Frodo considered a denial. “Troubles of such you feel you cannot speak them.” Now Gandalf turned to his young friend, eyes bright and alert, but shaded with concern. “Why?”
Frodo brow furrowed, contemplating. Though he was uneasy to speak of his unrest, he knew that he couldn’t cheat Gandalf of the truth. It was several long minutes before he had worked up the courage to speak, let alone what he was going to say.
“I didn’t think it was going to be like this, Gandalf,” Frodo said at last.
Gandalf frowned and didn’t speak.
Frodo sighed, looking out again at the sea. “I knew that after the Ring was destroyed, and if we were ever to return to The Shire, that things would be different. That I would be different. But I didn’t expect to feel like this…not after this long. I have much life ahead of me yet…are the rest of my years to pass marred by the same feeling?”
“What feeling, Frodo?” Gandalf asked puzzled, and Frodo hung his head in shame.
“Guilty,” he said in a small voice.
“Guilty?” The wizard repeated. There was no mistaking the surprise in his tone.
“I let the Ring take me, Gandalf,” Frodo whispered. “I would have taken it for my own, even after all Sam and I had been through. If it weren’t for Gollum, I wouldn’t have destroyed it. I would have been the ruin of us all.”
There was a short silence.
“I told you that Gollum had his role. And if it was only to intercept you when you were the most susceptible to Sauron’s charms, then it was a purpose well served.” Gandalf said slowly.
“I failed us all,” Frodo’s voice was so low, even the attentive wizard had to strain to hear it. “I wasn’t strong enough.”
Gandalf leaned forward, trying to catch Frodo’s eye. “Frodo, you were stronger than us all.” His speech was earnest, but still the Hobbit refused to look at him.
“I wasn’t,” He insisted dejectedly. “If I was, I would have thrown that evil thing straight into the fire.”
“Oh Frodo,” Gandalf chuckled, but in a way of reassurance instead of humour. “My dear Hobbit. The Ring of Power was a source of pure evil. It was created by evil and only evil could destroy it. Your heart is pure, and there is no malice in it. Only after all the Dark Lord’s tricks and tests, when you were at your very last, was it able to break through your reason.”
There was another silence as Frodo tried to absorb his wise friends words, and found there was nothing he could say in reply.
“Is this why you are leaving Middle Earth?”
Still Frodo said nothing. He knew the reason he left it all behind was because it didn’t fit anymore, like a glove that has become too small and worn. But there was also a part that hoped that maybe in leaving, he could leave his weakness and self-torture behind.
Not heeding Frodo’s silence, Gandalf continued. “You can’t sail away from what happened,” he said, uncannily knowing the Hobbit’s thoughts. “All you can do is accept what is past. Accept that you have the same weakness that would have felled us all. None of us are so different, men or wizard or elf or Hobbit. That should be of some comfort to you.”
Finally tearing his eyes away from the dark, Frodo looked at Gandalf, and the wizard smiled. “Everything that is past is filled with some regret; but the future is wide. Don’t look at what you should have done, but what you did.” He clapped Frodo on the shoulder, not unlike a grandfather would a grandson, and with a last reassuring smile, swept away.
Though somewhat comforted by Gandalf’s words, Frodo couldn’t help but heave another burdened sigh. “Some things can never go back to how they were.” He murmured to himself, and then noticed a bright star winking down on him.
For some strange reason it gave him an overwhelming sense of Sam, and he felt tears gather in the corner of his eyes. The star continued to twinkle, and though he could not remember doing so, suddenly Frodo found himself wishing; wishing with all the conviction of his being, that change wasn’t so hard.
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