The hobbits had intended to return home after Aragorn's coronation, but their plans were now delayed. Even if Frodo were fit to travel so far, Gandalf had insisted that he remain in Minas Tirith, where he could be taken care of immediately at the first sign of danger.
And yet, once the morning sickness and dizzy spells abated, Frodo felt quite normal. Physically, he felt so little changed by this unexplained pregnancy that he could almost forget about it from day to day, if it were not for his increasingly odd and disturbing dreams.
He dreamt again of the tower. He had been stripped and bound to a table, and the orcs were interrogating him. They asked him the same questions over and over: What was he doing sneaking into Mordor? Where had he come from? Had he brought others with him, Elves, Men, or more little rats like himself? There was some great prize the Big Bosses were searching for--did he have it? Did he know where it was?
Frodo refused to answer, no matter what horrible things were done to him. At last, the orc chief called for a halt to the torture.
The creature leaned down over the table, foul breath blasting in Frodo's face as he said, "Won't talk, will you? Well, we've got something that'll make you squeak right enough!"
He held up a small, black-smeared orb, like a soft-shelled egg. It was glowing warmly red, as if there were fire within it, and at the heart of it, Frodo could see a tiny, curled thing like a hairless newborn mouse. The orc pressed this orb to Frodo's belly; he felt it burn on his skin, and he screamed and fought against the bonds that held him as the object sank into his flesh. Once the orb had made its way into his body, it left no mark on his skin.
"There!" the orc chief slavered with satisfaction. "Just wait `til that hatches out! Oh, you'll beg to tell us everything you know!"
The first little bulge appeared at the beginning of June.
"So you've got a bit of a tum," Sam said when he noticed it. "That's not so odd on a hobbit, only you've never had one before."
"But it's too soon for me to be showing, isn't it?" Frodo responded. "It's barely been three months. If go on at this rate, I'll be as fat as the Mayor of Michel Delving by the end of summer."
Knowing that it would be impossible to keep his secret for much longer, he decided to tell his cousins and the rest of the household. Merry and Pippin were astounded when they heard his news.
"I knew you were keeping something from us," Merry said after letting out a low, surprised whistle. "With the healer coming to see you so often, and Gandalf saying you shouldn't travel, I was afraid you must be seriously ill. But I never guessed this."
"Uh- how...?" Pippin eyed Sam curiously.
"That's rather difficult to explain," Frodo told them. He'd hoped to avoid such questions until he understood what was happening himself, but he still had no better idea of how or why than he had that first day. He simply told his cousins as much as he and Gandalf had guessed; that was enough to put a stop to any jokes they might make at Sam's expense, and their offers of support and protection were as heart-felt and nearly as touching to him as Sam's had been.
He dreamt that he and Sam were running on the road that led down from the pass at Cirith Ungol into Mordor. They had just escaped the tower, when they heard a furious shriek overhead. They looked up to see a huge black beast in flight above them. It landed atop the tower, its wings spread like a vast bat's against the murky sky. A Black Rider in armor was seated upon it.
"Run!" Sam shouted, and grabbed Frodo by the arm to pull him along.
There was a bridge over a ravine just ahead of them; if they could reach it before they were noticed, they would be able to get off the road and out of sight. They ran as fast as they could, and were within a dozen yards of the bridge when they were spotted. The winged beast--or its Rider?--let out a second ear-splitting screech and dove down from its place on the tower. In another second, it had reached them, swooping so low over them that they flung themselves to the soot-covered surface of the road to avoid its claws.
Sam drew Sting from his belt and rolled to regain his feet. "Frodo, run!" he hissed, and stood ready to fight and give Frodo time to escape. "Go!"
Frodo turned to run, but the battle was over before he had gone very far. Sam fought valiantly, but the creature dodged each feint of the shining elvish blade. Suddenly, it snapped forward, catching Sam in its jaws. It shook him like a dog playing with a child's rag doll, and tossed what was left of his body aside.
Frodo stood frozen in horror as the beast then turned and advanced toward him. But it didn't kill him too. Instead, it swept past him, its hideous head and the scaled skin of its long neck brushing so close that he could have put out a hand to touch it. The Rider reached down to seize the hobbit with a mailed fist and hauled him up to throw him across the beast's neck before the saddle.
With a last triumphant shriek, the Nazgul spurred its mount to flight and carried its prey off into the skies, and headed toward the Dark Tower in the distance.
When Lord Elrond arrived in the city at Midsummer with a retinue of Elves from Rivendell for his daughter's marriage to Aragorn, Gandalf consulted with both Elrond and Aragorn about Frodo's condition. There was another examination, which Frodo found more embarrassing than the Master Healer's proddings and palpitations. They asked more personal questions than the healer had, and he confessed that he had been a virgin at the time he was impregnated; thankfully, they did not question his private life beyond that, and he was spared the explanation of why he was not a virgin now.
He and Sam had agreed not to make their new arrangement public. Some of their friends were certainly aware of the relationship, while the others probably assumed that Sam slept in his room every night to keep watch over him.
And Sam did watch over him. True to his word, Sam looked after him, not only loving him tenderly, but giving him the most solicitous attention. Sam saw that he rested and ate enough, took his arm to escort him up and down stairs, and fussed over him even more than usual. Except for their bedding together, this 'marriage' was really not very different from what their friendship had been before. While he was gloriously happy at finding love, and learning how to make love was a more fascinating and exciting part of his education than he had imagined it could be, Frodo took the greatest comfort in knowing that he was not alone during this difficult time.
Sam was not the only one to watch him. Gandalf, too, observed him closely and constantly. The Master Healer made regular visits, as did the midwife, even though she had first suspected a joke was being played on her when she saw that her patient was male. And once news of his strange condition spread, Frodo felt as if everyone was staring at him. When he was presented to Queen Arwen just after the wedding, she seemed puzzled as she took his hand, as if, like Gandalf, she sensed the life growing within him but could not define nor explain it. He sometimes caught Legolas's eyes on him with the same curious expression, and the eyes of other Elves often followed him as well. He felt their gaze whenever he ventured into the citadel. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he thought they were whispering behind his back.
"I know they're worried," he confided to Sam one evening in July after they returned from a celebratory dinner for the King and Queen, "but I wish everyone wouldn't be so alarmed at my every ache and pain. If I have a hiccup, they look at me as if they think I'm about to explode!"
"I expect they're afraid that's just what'll happen," Sam answered reluctantly. "That is, meaning, we don't know what that baby is inside you, do we? We don't know what it'll do."
"No," Frodo had to admit, "we don't."
That night, he dreamt that he stood at the Crack of Doom. At the very brink of the chasm, he held the Ring out to drop it into the stream of molten fire below. Then, with the golden circle dangling before his eyes, he hesitated. His will faltered. After so many weeks of struggling against it, he succumbed to the insidious spell. The Ring had taken him at last.
He turned to Sam, who had come into the cavern after him. "I have come," Frodo told him, "but I do not choose to do what I came to do. I will not cast it away. The Ring is mine!" And he placed it on his finger.
Once he had claimed the Ring for his own, he had the power to see far beyond the walls of the cavern, outside the mountain. Mordor lay vast and black before him. He saw the armies of orcs and Men assembled for battle, and the Nazgul whirling on their winged mounts overhead. He saw the Dark Tower of Barad Dur rising into the red sky like a great, horned head. Atop it blazed the Eye of Sauron. As he stared at it, the Eye turned toward him, as if sensing the Ring's presence. It found him. He stood transfixed, pierced by that terrible gaze and unable to move or to turn away, until Gollum sprang upon him.
They struggled madly at the very edge of the chasm, each determined to have the Ring at all costs--but Gollum, who had been its slave for so much longer, was more determined and madder than he. A swift bite to sever the finger he wore the Ring upon, and the Ring was in Gollum's possession again. And yet, in spite of his injury, Frodo went on fighting to reclaim what he'd lost, but in the end, Gollum and the Ring tumbled into the fire together, and he nearly followed them. He hung onto the tip of the rocky outcropping that jutted over the fiery pit and might have let himself fall in, if it were not for Sam, who refused to let him go.
The mountain shook as if it were falling down around them and liquid fire spewed up from the depths. Frodo felt that Eye upon him for one last instant then, as Sam hauled him up from the chasm, there was a huge explosion. The force of the blast knocked him off his feet as soon as he regained them; he felt it pulse through him like a sudden blow so powerful that he cried out as he awoke.
Frodo sat up, panting for breath. His hands went to his abdomen; he could still feel the memory of that blow from his dream resonating within him... and something else stirred that was no dream.
Sam had awakened at his cry. "What is it, Frodo? What's wrong?"
"I felt it move." He took Sam's hand and brought it to the bulge of his belly, which moved again under the touch; Sam quickly drew his hand away and they stared at each other. "It's quickened. Whatever it is, it's alive."
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