Summer passed into autumn. Frodo calculated that if he had been impregnated in March, according to natural hobbit processes, he ought to give birth around Yule--but he was growing so big so quickly that he was certain the child would arrive much sooner. He could not rely on what was normal for an ordinary hobbit pregnancy in his case, for he was not carrying an ordinary hobbit-child. Who knew how long an orcling needed to gestate?
By his birthday in September, he had grown conspicuously large and, in Sam's words, "helpless as a pumpkin." It was a struggle for him to rise from his bed every morning, as well as get up from chairs, and he had no hope of getting into or out of a bath without Sam's assistance. Thrown off-balance by his increased weight, he was grateful to take Sam's arm whenever it was offered. His back ached and his ankles were swollen--and Sam rubbed them for him in the evenings--but he supposed that, in these respects, his condition was no worse than anyone's in the late stages of pregnancy. The worst of it was that their lovemaking, which he had enjoyed all summer, was severely curtailed; he tired easily and was so unwieldy that finding a comfortable position was becoming impossible. More nights than not, he and Sam slept spooned together as innocently as they had before they'd become lovers.
Elrond and the other Elves who had come to attend Arwen's wedding to Aragorn stayed on in Minas Tirith; Frodo knew that they remained because they were waiting to see what sort of child he delivered. By September, the whispers around him had increased until he could no longer believe he was imagining things. He was a focus of attention, and there was a great deal of discussion going on around him, about him.
He did not discover the extent of these discussions until the Elf who served as an aide-de-camp to Elrond came to the house to request that Frodo accompany him to the citadel. "There is a council," the aide explained. "King Elessar and My Lord Elrond wish you to attend."
Sam went with them, helping Frodo up the steeply inclined street to the gate, and up to the vast courtyard at the city's crest. But when they came to the great doors of the citadel, the Elf stopped and said, "Lord Elrond has asked for the Ringbearer alone."
Sam was about to argue, when Frodo forestalled him by laying a hand on his arm and saying, "It's all right, Sam. Wait for me here, and please don't worry. I won't be gone long."
Reluctantly, Sam consented, and Frodo followed his escort into the citadel. They crossed the great hall, and entered the council chamber beside the throne room; there was a huge table, and Aragorn, Faramir and the Men of the King's Council, Gandalf, Elrond and other Elves were seated or standing around it. They were already in the midst of an argument, which stopped abruptly when the aide held the door open for the hobbit to enter.
Frodo hesitated at the doorway as all eyes turned to him. "You wished to see me?"
Aragorn came forward to him. "Frodo, welcome. I thought it was best that you join us. Will you have a seat, please?"
All the chairs in the room were built for Men and were too tall for a hobbit, and the table even taller. At a nod from the King, Faramir pulled one chair some distance from the table, far enough so that Frodo could see over the table's top, and Aragorn lifted him up to sit down. Feet dangling far from the floor and faced with so many Big Folk, all so great and powerful, Frodo felt very small and vulnerable. He wished he had insisted that Sam be allowed to come in with him after all; he wouldn't feel quite so apprehensive if he had a hand to hold.
Aragorn must have seen how nervous he was, for he crouched down before the chair so that they were nearly at eye-level. "Frodo," he began gently, choosing his words with great care, "you know that your situation has been of concern to us."
Frodo nodded.
"Have you found no explanation for how this impregnation could have come about?" asked Elrond.
"No, My Lord."
"We can only guess that it must be some dark work of Mordor," Gandalf added.
"That is your answer, Mithrandir," Elrohir, Elrond's son, spoke. "We have heard it before. I would like to hear the halfling's. Surely that is why he's been brought here?"
"I don't know what was done to me," Frodo answered, "but I believe Gandalf is right. It must have happened while I was in Mordor." He had turned the question over many times before, with Gandalf or Sam or in his own mind, and there was no other reasonable solution.
Elrohir turned to him. "You remember nothing?"
This sounded almost like an accusation, as if the Elvish princeling thought he was keeping something back; Frodo bristled defensively as he replied, "Nothing that explains how this child was conceived."
"I had hoped that some other answer to this mystery might be discovered," Elrond admitted. "Now, there is no other choice. I must agree with your conclusions. You must understand, Frodo, how deeply we are disturbed by anything that bears the taint of Mordor."
Frodo understood, but he didn't like what had been suggested. "Do you say I am tainted?" He looked to Gandalf, then to Aragorn with the question. "Do you?"
"No, Frodo," the wizard assured him. "Not you."
"It is the creature unborn that worries us," said Elrond. "We have discussed this matter at length these past months. The time draws near, and we must determine what to do about it."
"You've discussed this for months?" asked Frodo. "This is not your first council?"
"No," Aragorn told him. "We've spoken of it often, since we first learned of your condition."
Frodo had been aware of the whispered conversations, but hadn't realized that formal meetings had been convened about him. Had Gandalf attended them? Yes, he must have, and had never said a word. None of them had. "Why didn't you consult me before?"
"We wished to spare you the countless rounds of debate before we came to a decision," said Aragorn. "I thought it was time that you heard what has been said."
"Our deliberations did not concern you until now," added Elrond.
"I beg your pardon!" Frodo cried. "I am very much concerned in whatever plans you're making for my baby."
"Your baby?" one of the Men repeated incredulously. "Do you claim it as yours?"
"Yes. Yes, I do." This came as something of a surprise to Frodo, but after all these months of carrying this child, he did think of it as his. And now that it was being threatened, he found he had grown protective of it. Perhaps this council had every right to be worried; he was. Perhaps he was about to birth something monstrous; he had thought it himself often enough. But he had been aware of this possibility from the beginning, and had made his own choice to bear this baby regardless. He would fight for it, and fight for his right to choose even more than he would for the unborn child itself. "What have you decided?" he asked, voice quavering with emotion. In spite of his resolve not to be intimidated, he was growing frightened.
"All we would ask is that you come to live within the citadel." Aragorn had risen from his crouched position beside Frodo's seat, but he continued to speak in that gentle, reassuring voice. "A room has been made ready for you. You will be cared for, and watched over until it is time for the child to be born."
"Thank you, but I prefer to stay in my own house." Frodo didn't think of the house they shared as his "home" in the same way that Bag End was, but he had been living there for nearly six months and was as comfortable with it as he could be with such large, squared-off rooms and outsized furniture. "Why can't I have the baby there?"
"If there are any... difficulties, we can attend to them more readily here," the King explained.
"This is meant for your safety as well, Frodo," said Gandalf. "Surely you must see that this child may be dangerous?"
"Yes, of course I see that. I accepted that risk when I decided to carry it. But there is no proof that it is a danger to me. This pregnancy, odd as it is, has not harmed me. I've suffered no pain. I haven't been troubled, except, well-" he hesitated.
"Except-?" Elrond prompted.
"I've had very strange dreams," Frodo said reluctantly; he felt rather silly speaking of them. "Well, nightmares, actually. I dream that orcs are tormenting me, or else Nazgul on flying beasts take me up and carry me off. Sometimes, I dream that Sauron's Eye is fixed upon me and I cannot hide." Gandalf looked particularly intrigued at this last, and an excited murmur passed among the Elves and Men. "They are all terrible, but they are only dreams," he concluded, "not the truth. They have nothing to do with the baby."
"How do you know?" asked one of the Elves. "Dreams are often portents. These visions may not tell us how you fell under the sorcery of Mordor, but they suggest that you are still within its spell."
"You do think I'm tainted!"
"No, Frodo-" said Aragorn.
But Elrohir asked, "Would you fight to protect this creature so desperately, if you were not under some influence?"
"I fight for it because it is mine!" In his fear, Frodo's voice rose higher, growing shrill. "My child! I have chosen to bear it, and if it is dangerous, then I will also bear the responsibility for it. I will be the one to pay if I've made a mistake."
"You may not be the only one that pays, Frodo," Gandalf told him. "This situation affects more than yourself alone."
"If there are dangers, will you be able to face them?" asked Elrond. "Are you prepared for what might come?"
"We must prepare ourselves for whatever may come," his son said grimly. "We must prevent it, if we are able."
In spite of their efforts not to distress him, they could not conceal their purpose. Frodo saw it clearly now: they were planning to take the child from him. He drew in a sharp breath and looked up at the faces around him, stunned. How could they do this to him? He had trusted Gandalf implicitly from his boyhood. Aragorn, too, had sworn to protect him and Frodo had believed that he always would. Elrond was not so dear a friend as the other two, but Frodo had considered him fair and just. Even Faramir, who had not spoken during this council, but stood behind his chair waiting at the King's command, had once befriended him in a time of need. And yet they had all conspired against him, betrayed him, decided his fate--and the fate of his child!--without consulting him. What would they do if he refused to comply with their decision?
He suddenly felt more vulnerable than ever sitting here--small, helpless, heavily pregnant, and surrounded by people he could no longer trust. "Wh- What will you do?" he asked. "Do you mean to kill it?"
"I hope that will not be necessary," said Elrond. "Some here have said that, if this is a child of Mordor, then it must be destroyed immediately, before it grows into its powers and we are too late to defend ourselves against it. However-" he went on as Frodo let out a shocked cry of protest, "the council has agreed to act only if the threat the child represents requires it. We will abide until is born, to wait and see what it is before we decide further."
"Then wait you must," Frodo answered him. "If there are dangers once the child is born, then you may do what is necessary to guard yourselves. I will consent to nothing more than that now. I will not live at the citadel. I don't want to stay here." He squirmed to climb down from his chair. "I would like to go home. I have nothing more to say."
He wanted to run from the chamber, but his position made it impossible. Even when he had balanced himself precariously at the edge of the seat, his toes did not touch the floor. Frodo was afraid he was about to topple over, when Faramir reached out to catch him; in his present frame of mind, that large hand closing on his upper arm sent the hobbit into a panic. He twisted in Faramir's grip, shrieking, "No! Let me go! Let me go!"
Faramir let go, setting Frodo on the floor. "I did not mean to frighten you, Frodo," he said, and sounded ashamed of himself for his part in this.
"No one wants to frighten you," Aragorn insisted. "No harm will come to you--I swear it!"
"I won't stay! Will you keep me here against my will?" Frodo shot back at him, then turned to the others around him; he knew they could stop him easily. But no one moved to detain him, and he ran from the chamber.
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