We’d finally stopped at Parth Galen, after traveling through the Great River for days. The rest of the Fellowship was trying to the decide our next destination: should we go West with Boromir to Minas Tirith, in Gondor, or go East to Mordor, to destroy the Ring like we first intended to? If you ask me, I believe we should take the Ring to Mount Doom, for my master to finally complete his task. But, of course, I wasn’t going to say anything; I’m just an ordinary hobbit from Hobbiton, trying to help his great friend carry the burden that fell upon him.
We were all silent, until Aragorn said: “Well, Frodo. I fear that the burden is laid upon you. You are the Bearer appointed by the Council. Your own way you alone can choose. In this matter I cannot advise you. I am not Gandalf, and though I have tried to bear his part, I do not know what design or hope he had for this hour, if indeed he had any. Most likely it seems that that if he were here now the choice would still wait on you. Such is your fate.”
“I know that the haste is needed, yet I cannot choose,” he answered, slowly. “The burden is heavy. Give me an hour longer, and I will speak. Let me be alone!”
I looked at him with great concern. I had a bad feeling about him being alone, as if something bad was about to happen. I didn’t want to stop him from going; I was just being stupid, and he deserved some time alone to think. It must be very hard to have all the responsibility of bearing the Ring, having the future of Middle-Earth on your hands.
I just shook my head and muttered: “Plain as a pikestaff it is, but it’s no good Sam Gamgee putting in his spoke just now.”
Frodo stood up and walked. No one looked at him, save from Boromir, who followed him intently. Ever since I first saw, in the Council of Elrond, I had a bad feeling about him. He always had a strange glance in his eyes whenever master talked about the Ring. ‘Maybe he just wants to go to Gondor to take the Ring for himself!’ I thought. ‘I can’t let Mr. Frodo go West; I tell him as soon as he comes back.’
I stared at the trees at the foot of Amon Hen, wondering what Frodo would decide.
We were silent for a while, each too involved in our own thoughts. But, after some time, we sat in circle by the river side. We were talking, trying to divert the subject to something other than Frodo and the Ring. I couldn’t focus; all I could think about was my friend. What path would he choose? Why was he taking so long?
Aragorn started talking again, but I wasn’t really listening to what he was saying. I started paying attention to the conversation.
“Grievous is our loss,” said Legolas. “Yet we must needs make up our minds without his aid. Why cannot we decide, and so help Frodo? Let us call him back and then vote! I should vote for Minas Tirith, but if he does not, then I follow him.”
“And so should I,” said Gimli. “We are only here to help the Bearer along the road, to go no further than we wished. None of us is under any road to seek Mount Doom, but I cannot leave Frodo. I would choose to go to Minas Tirith, but if he does not, then I follow him.”
“It would indeed be a betrayal, if we all left him,” said Aragorn. “But if he goes east, then we shouldn’t all follow him. That venture is desperate: as much so for eight as for three or two, or one alone. I should appoint three companions: Sam, Gimli and myself.”
“That won’t do at all!” cried Merry. “We can’t leave Frodo! Pippin and I always intended to go wherever he went, and we still do. But we did not realize what that would mean. It seemed so different from far away, in the Shire or Rivendell. It would be mad and cruel to let Frodo go to Mordor. Why can’t we stop him?” I agreed with him: all of us hobbits must stay together. We had come such a long way; it would be madness to just leave them behind.
“We must stop him,” said Pippin. “And that is what he is worrying about, I am sure. He knows we shan’t agree to his going east. And he doesn’t like to ask anyone to go with him, poor old fellow. Imagine it: going off to Mordor alone!” he shuddered.
“Begging your pardon,” I said. “I don’t think you understand my master at all. He isn’t hesitating which way to go! What’s the good of Minas Tirith anyway? To him, I mean, begging your pardon, Master Boromir,” I turned to look at him, only to find out that he was gone.
“Now where’s he got to?” I cried. “He’s been a bit queer lately, to my mind.” I said, finally voicing my thoughts on him. “But anyway he’s not in this business.
“Mr. Frodo knows he’s got to find the Cracks of Doom, if he can. But he’s afraid. And he isn’t worrying about us either: whether we’ll go along with him or no. He knows we mean to. That’s another thing that’s bothering him. If he screws himself up to go, he’ll want to go alone. Mark my words!”
Aragorn agreed with me, and Pippin started talking about going after him, when, suddenly, Boromir reappeared. He looked sad and… ashamed?
“Where have you been, Boromir? Have you seen Frodo?” asked Aragorn.
He answered that he just urged Frodo to go Minas Tirith, and that Frodo just “vanished”. I didn’t believe him.
“This is bad!” I shouted. “I don’t know what this man has been up to. Why should Mr. Frodo put the thing on? He didn’t ought to have; and if he has, goodness knows what may have happened!”
I couldn’t think anymore. I started running after Frodo, to the forest. I just saw a boat slipping into the water, all by itself. ‘It must be him,’ I thought.
“Coming Mr. Frodo! Coming!” I called. I tried to catch the departing boat but missed by a yard.
I drowned I the water, trying my hardest to swim. I felt him pull me up my hair, then I took his hand. He took the boat back to the bank, and I was able to scrabble out.
He took off the Ring and stepped ashore again. “Of all the confounded nuisances you are the worst, Sam!” he told me.
“Oh, Mr. Frodo, that’s hard. That’s hard, trying to go without me and all. If I hadn’t a guessed right, where would you be now?” I said.
“Safely on my way,” he answered.
“Safely! All alone without me to help you? I couldn’t have a borne it, it’d have been the death of me.”
“It would have been the death of you to come with me, Sam,” said Frodo, “and I couldn’t have borne that.”
“I’m coming to Mordor with you or neither of us isn’t going!” I answered.
He laughed. “So all my plan is spoilt!” said Frodo. “It is no good in trying to escape you. But I’m glad, Sam. I cannot tell you how glad. We will go, and may the others find a safe road! Strider will look after them. I don’t suppose we shall see them again.”
“Yet we may, Mr. Frodo. We may,” I said.
So, we set on the last stage of the quest, together.
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