Poor Frodo, he can't get away from Mt. Doom. And I love it that his IF is sometimes Smeagol and sometimes Gollum.
That was brilliant! Poor Frodo... he never was right after Mt. Doom. And I agree with Marian, the fact that his IF is Gollum and Smeagol is just genius!
Thank you both! As I said to Marian in another thread, Post Ringbearer Syndrome isn't something one gets over easily. (I have to give credit for the idea to one of my favorite fanfictions)
Smeagol/Gollum just came when I was watching him sing to the IF and then try and beat it to death. It cracks me up every time!
And a big thanks to all the silent readers who have pushed this over the 2100 views. I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writing it.
Chapter Twenty Four - Stand in the Light
There was always a lot of affection shown in the Fellowship house, and it seemed that the closer they got to their goal, the more frequent the hugs became.
Frodo was doted on and the attention he received might have spoiled a different child.
But Frodo seemed to walk between two worlds. The everyday, mundane world where he did his homework and wore his tux to school.
(with the dashing plastic flip flops to give the outfit that certain
elan)
And the world of his imagination, where he ruled vast kingdoms and completed great quests.
Sam was dealing with her own stresses. One day she simply turned invisible.
"What's this about, then?" Legolas asked her, watching the plumbob bounce across the house.
"I'm gong to blow it, Great-Great!" she told him, tears in her voice. "I can't get any cooking ops."
"It'll be fine," he soothed her. "Go have a nice hot shower, you'll be more yourself."
Pip had gone back to performing, and was rolling himself about in great flaming hoops.
"Why, Pip, why?" Tia groaned.
"Gonna be the best, that's all," Pip said confidently. "The crowd loves this bit."
"They love the butt fires!"
Frodo developed a taste for falafel, simply because it looked like lembas.
Sam filled the fridge with autumn salad and fruit parfait until the family was sick of the sight of it.
"Replicate something else then," she snapped at Merry. "How do you think I feel? I'm partial to tri-tip steak myself, but nooo, it takes too much time or something..."
Merry hugged the distraught woman. "You're almost done, Sam. And then it's baked alaska and steak every night."
He was right, and the next day Sam finished the last salad to supermax cooking.
Gimli taught his grandson the traditional Dwarven Dance Moves.
Leaving Aragorn to watch Frodo one night while Sam was at work, the rest piled into the motive mobile and headed out for a night on the town.
"Wait," Tia said, "what are you doing
behind the bar?"
"We sort of bought the place," Gimli confessed.
"Our very own tavern!" Gandalf enthused.
"It's no Green Dragon," Pip admitted.
"But we like it." Merry finished for him, concentrating on the game.
"And you brought Jedidiah with you?" Tia exclaimed. "The poor man is seven hundred years old or something."
"Lad needed a night out," Merry, who made friends with anyone who showed up at the gate, shrugged. "Do him good to have some fun and a pint."
Frodo had been given his room for his childhood birthday. Here he penned his stories, writing out all the dark fantasies that filled his mind. He spent so much time in there that his birthday snuck up on him.
It was a nice suit, but he missed his hobbit hair. So off to the dresser he went.
He decided instead of a large party, he wanted a small family reunion. So he made the phone calls.
"Dad? Are you busy?"
Zak was never too busy for his son. In fact, the boy was the greatest joy in his life. He offered every support he could, from late night phone calls about Frodo's problems to giving him solid critique on the books the boy was publishing at an alarming rate.
Gimli's children also came. Frodo loved his aunties and uncle. He never blinked at the way they spoke or moved, they were just part of the clan.
Gimli was immensely proud of all his children, but what he loved most was the relationship they had built up together. He also loved the way they all pretended to laugh at his terrible jokes.
Sam and Valerie spent some time trading stories and boosting each other's confidence. Val had always been a loner, large groups, even with the family made her a little uneasy.
Frodo and Zak discussed Frodo's latest book.
"You have such talent, son," Zak told him. "But your stories are getting too dark. There's such a light in you as well, Frodo. Stand in that light. Nothing can touch you there."
Maybe Zak had some premonition of what was to come, for he suddenly hugged his strange son fiercely.
"Always remember that I love you. You are the best of your mother and me."
Two days later, Zak passed on quietly in his sleep.
Devastated, Frodo locked himself in his room and pounded away at the keyboard. Reading over the bleakness on the screen before him, he sat back and recalled his father's words. He remembered the bike his father had given him, how he'd made him learn to ride it. He thought of how patient his dad has always been, even listening to the nonsense he'd spouted at him. His dad had just hugged him and ruffled his hair, and kept on listening. Zak had poured all his love into his one child.
Frodo straightened his shoulders. He would stand in the light.
