DEAR READER
Claire Keane
Cosmic Funnies
Love Begins
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★
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
todays bird
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祝日 / Permanent Vacation
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Keni
we're not kids anymore.
Kaledo Art
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@ineder
( # 𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐫 ) Ring-bearer & his selfless sacrifice for Middle-earth. A private and independent blog for Frodo Baggins from The Lord of the Rings trilogy. Abiding adapted canon conjunct to @galbasi (currently reading Fellowship). By Duckie. He/Him. 28.
Card. (Under co. Refer to @atleur for now.)
Note: Single ship with Avram's Sam!
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Happy pride, Frodo and Sam are in love and married, actually.
Avram and I talked about this, moreso Avram came up with this [deep] thought:
it makes sense that Frodo, who was so deeply changed by the trauma he experienced doesn’t see the world the same way anymore and his home doesn’t feel like home anymore. It’s significant that every year on the day he was stabbed by the morgul blade, it hurts so much more than usual... it’s a significant date for him. I dont necessarily see him as a 1:1 victim but in that moment where he was stabbed, it wasn't just an injury, it was a total loss of his bodily autonomy (not including the rings temptation) from the greed of a man who only wants power. The wound immediately necrotic, almost killing him and basically sending him shifting in between consciousness/the realm of death. It's a very apt comparison to what it is like to be raped or sexually assaulted. Especially since that’s one of the first big terrible things that happens to Frodo on his journey. after this he continues to feel the ring’s temptation and his moods shift, he frequently wants to give up and feels hopeless, he’s stripped naked by the Orcs (which is canonically an assault in itself) and left humiliated and vulnerable until Sam rescues him.
"I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way. " // A private, rendition of Frodo Baggins from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Written by Duckie.
I’m afraid I’m not worthy of you.
In Frodo's clear blue eyes there was no shadow of doubt, only a gentle sorrow of hearing a beloved friend speak ill of himself. (It pained him to hear it, a dull ache beginning to pulse.) He laid his hand upon Sam’s arm, lightly at first. “Do not say that,” he said softly. “You have walked beside me when all hope failed,” Frodo went on, his voice low, yet steadfast. “When the road grew dark beyond telling, it was your hand that held me to the light. If I have any worth at all, it was shaped and guarded by your faith, your courage, and your love—given freely without asking what might be returned...”
“And if you fear you are not worthy of me,” Frodo said at last, drawing a little nearer, “then know this: I choose you, Samwise Gamgee. Not because you are untried by doubt, but because you love so deeply that even doubt cannot unbind it. If there is any grace left to me, it is this: that I may love you in return, as wholly and faithfully as you have loved me.”
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I never had the courage to ask you if you'd kiss me.
Sam furrowed his brow, in a thoughtful expression. "Doesn't sound like you," he added after a moment, adjusting himself on the wood fence, scraping grass from his trousers. He almost wanted to pretend he didn't hear what Frodo had told him (was it because he wanted to hear it again, or because he'd found himself in shock, at the crossroads of their relationship?)
It was a quiet, solemn walk back to Bag End. The hunter's moon hung low, barely grazing the horizon among the blue hills as Sam and Frodo stood in front of Frodo's Hobbit Hole. It had been two years since the Hobbits had returned to The Shire, and structurally, was finally starting to feel like home again after Saruman's scouring. Two years to the day, and Merry and Pippin, amongst the other Hobbits, had decided to throw a celebration at the Dragon for the resilience of their home. Sam had noticed Frodo was contemplative, and less social than usual. Offering to take him on a walk, they found themselves home again. Sam had grown closer to Frodo than he'd ever believe to be close to anyone, excusing his own future children, he believed.
The gardener was silent, staring at Frodo's serious expression. He took his hand, voice softening. "Courage, I mean. You've got more courageousness than anyone I know, that's for certain," he waited for the older Hobbit's face to turn, but it wouldn't budge. "Besides, why are you speaking in the past tense, and all? Sam is here, your Sam is right here," he gently stroked the fine brunette hairs on the Hobbit's hand. Since their journey they'd become more physically affectionate, often letting touches linger, spending nights together in Frodo's plush bed, clinging to each other as if they still had to retain each other's body heat to survive. That hadn't been true for a long time now, but the habit stayed. Sam couldn't picture life any other way. "Have you got it now? Please say you have."
Frodo drew a slow breath. He did not at once turn, but when he spoke his voice was clear, though quiet, like a river running through stones "Sam," he said, and there was a soft tremor in the name, "I do not doubt your courage, nor mine, such as it is.” He lifted his eyes at last, and in them lay the moon’s pale light. "But courage does not always mean going on as before. Sometimes it means standing still, and saying what has long been carried in silence...”
He turned then, fully, and his hand closed about Sam’s, warm and certain. “I speak of the past because there are parts of me that dwell there yet, walking roads that do not end in the Shire. They are weary roads, and I cannot always bring them home.” His thumb brushed Sam’s knuckles, a small, reverent motion. “But you—” he smiled, faint and true, “you are my homecoming.”
Before Sam could speak, Frodo leaned forward and pressed his lips against Sam's, and his hand upon left cheek. The kiss was soft, almost tentative at first, as if he feared the world might yet fall away beneath his feet. But when Sam did not draw back—when his hand tightened instead—Frodo’s courage found its rest. The kiss lingered, carrying with it all the long miles, the nights of watchfulness, and the love that had never once failed.
When he drew back, Frodo rested his forehead against Sam’s. “There,” he murmured, breath unsteady but sure.
You bring great evil with you.
