Characters: Frodo, Aragorn, Gandalf, Faramir
Rating: G
Request: "I'd love a drabble that gives us Frodo's thoughts when he's given the crown to carry to Gandalf." (I went way beyond drabble - came out to about 770 words!)
Warning: None
A/N: Bookverse
Note: All characters included herein are the property of Tolkien, and I make nothing from the use of them.
Crowned With Glory
Frodo stood at the edge of the host, watching Aragorn receive the ancient crown from Faramir. He knew that he should be feeling a sense of exultation, of completeness. Their various missions done, the Fellowship was now gathered to raise up the fabled heir of Elendil to the throne of Gondor. Well, most of the Fellowship.
He closed his eyes and seemed to see the face of his former comrade Boromir, convulsed by the Ring’s possession of his spirit. That noble man of honour who had cared so for his cousins throughout the Quest, whose sword and life were lain down for Frodo’s protection – it should be his hands even now handing the crown into King Elessar’s keeping. Frodo feared that it was his own hesitation in leaving the Fellowship that had exacerbated the hold of the Ring on Boromir. This was a burden the guilt of which Frodo felt he might never overcome.
Frodo stood waiting for the words that would call him to take the crown from Faramir. Aragorn had insisted that he wanted Frodo to be the one to bear the crown to Gandalf for his coronation, and after a bit of resistance Frodo had given in.
“Why me and not Sam?” Frodo wondered to himself. He knew that if not for Sam Frodo would not have gotten the Ring all the way to Mount Doom. He felt his lips quirk into a wry smile as he imagined Smeagol somehow surviving the Ring being dropped into the fires; now he would have made a fine crown-bearer, certainly as worthy a one as Frodo, who had failed at the moment of truth.
Frodo felt his legs tremble slightly. His strength had not fully returned, despite Aragorn’s personal attendance and healing hands, and he worried that he would not be able to carry and lift the heavy silver piece up to Gandalf. He squinted into the sun, trying to gauge how much the crown must weigh. Even if he was not the most worthy to carry the crown, he would not humiliate his beloved Strider in his time of glory.
Then he heard Aragorn say, “By the labour and valour of many I have come into my inheritance. In token of this I would have the Ring-bearer bring the the crown to me, and let Mithrandir set it upon my head if he will.”*
Upon these words, Frodo felt as if something within him had been released, a wellspring overflowing. He certainly could carry the crown in honor of those who made it possible for them all to be here at this very moment. That was a privilege he could not deny, nor did he want to. In some small way, he could bring the spirit of Boromir and all the brave souls who sacrificed themselves to save Middle Earth from darkness and destruction. Perhaps some had been like himself, flawed and trying to do the best they could do in the moment as Gandalf had said. All together they had made it possible for this moment to occur.
Frodo carefully took the crown from the hands of Faramir. He felt the weight pulling his hands down and braced himself. Looking down at the wings of pearl and silver, he marveled at how white it shone, gleaming brighter than the sun itself. He bore the crown proudly, without a quiver, walking with all the dignity he could muster across the grass toward the gate where dear Gandalf stood smiling down upon him.
Frodo smiled back, realizing that now their journey together had truly come to an end. They had sat before the hearth at Bag End discussing the Ring long years before; now the Ring was gone and the crown about to be placed upon the head of the rightful King of Gondor. Under Gandalf’s twinkling gaze Frodo felt that perhaps he himself had been crucial to the success of the Quest, despite his mistakes and blundering. All had happened as it was meant to be.
Gandalf lifted the crown from his hands and moved toward Aragorn, who knelt. After the crown was placed on his head, Aragorn stood and looked beyond the wizard directly into Frodo’s eyes. Frodo felt a tide of love, acceptance and gratitude that brooked no dissent, and then a sense of awe as he saw his friend and protector Strider, the warrior Aragorn, transformed into an awe-inspiring creature of radiance and healing power.
Through his tears, Frodo heard Faramir declare, “Behold the King!”*
*Quotations from “The Steward and The King,” The Return of the King, The Lord of the Rings
