Great Stories by janeways  

Chapter 1

“I wonder what sort of tale we’ve fallen into?” asked Sam.

“I wonder,” said Frodo. “But I don’t know.” His thoughts turned back to Lady Galadriel and the words she had spoken to him at the Mirror.

This task was appointed to you. But who was he, that he should bring the Ring to Mordor? It was as if a voice other than his own had welled up inside him and burst forth, that day at the Council of Elrond. He didn’t know what had inspired him to speak up—he hadn’t really understood it then, and he felt as though he understood less and less as the quest went on.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t care. Of course he did. But he had no desire to be recalled in great stories or sung about around the campfire; he was no lord or great hero—nothing like others at the Council. He was only invited because he’d come that far in the first place, he supposed. It was only polite, to his Hobbit thinking, anyways. Surely there were others better suited to this task than him—who would know what to do right now, or at least know better than he did!

But then, Bilbo hadn’t really known what had overcome him, when he ran off on his adventure—only that something Tookish had woken up inside him, and before he’d realized it, he was cavorting through enchanted forests and trading wits with ogres. Bilbo hadn’t really known what he was doing the rest of the time, either, as far as Frodo could perceive. But he had muddled through alright, and it had all turned out in the end.

That was it, Frodo supposed. Like Sam had been saying. I used to think adventures were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for. But that’s not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually—their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn’t. And if they had, we shouldn’t know, because they’d have been forgotten.

Even the Lady Galadriel had said much the same thing, in her own way. I will not give you counsel, saying do this, or do that. For not in doing or contriving, nor in choosing between this course and another, can I avail; but only in knowing what was and is, and in part also what shall be.

Perhaps it was simply that it had to be done. As Sam’s old gaffer used to say, It's the job that's never started as takes longest to finish—and, as Frodo could imagine Sam adding, it might as well be him who’d started it to be the one to finish it.

Once, not long after Frodo’s parents had died, Bilbo had told him an old fairy-story of an Elven king who sought a magical ring, one that could make a sad man happy and a happy man sad. His advisor had sought out the finest jewel-smith, who forged a simple band, and on it were engraved the words, This too shall pass. Bilbo had reminded him, “That applies to the good things, too, don’t you forget, just as well as the bad.”

Frodo’s thoughts turned once again to the Lady Galadriel and the Mirror. That night, in his sleep, he had seen—less a dream than a vision—a waterfall cutting through a mountainside and falling to a clear pool below. Beside the pool stood a young elf-Lord and a young elf-Lady—Galadriel herself, Frodo realized. Frodo could hear Galadriel’s voice, but her lips were still. “I sustained myself through that bitter cold on thoughts of the land of my forebearers. But now that I am here, I find I no longer desire to master them, but only to know them, and be known by them in return.”

The elf-Lord turned to her. He had raven-black hair and steel-silver eyes, and his handsome face bore a huge spray of dark freckles. Although he too remained silent, Frodo perceived the words he spoke in his mind to Galadriel. “That is well enough, cousin. I sense that these lands may have more mastery of us than we have of them, in the end.”

Her gaze turned across the water. “Do you miss home?” she asked suddenly.

He was very still for a moment. “An oath I have sworn, and an oath I must keep. And I perceive that there is yet greater good to be done here, so long as the doing is in my power.”

She turned to him again. “Do you think that will be enough?”

“For what?” he scoffed. “To appease those self-righteous, self-appointed—” He stopped himself, then began again. “No, never. But it is not them to whom I answer, only the One.”

“And your father,” she said.

The Elf-lord scowled. “If they will not hear our vows, then I have no need of them. I seek neither their approval nor their pity. And if the time comes to reckon my accounts with the Lord of Doom, at least I can stand before him and say: I was myself.” His face softened. “If you act, it must be of your own conviction. This is all we have, now. Our doom is what we make of it. I hope you find what it is you seek.”

This was a memory, Frodo had realized upon waking, that the Lady Galadriel had chosen to share with him. He hadn’t understood why, then, nor had he understood the feeling of enormous grief that overcame him. Now, he thought he was beginning to.

Perhaps, Frodo was beginning to suspect, the adventure was coming whether you were ready or not, and the story would always find you, in the end.

Chapter End Notes

When I was trying to come up with a story for Quente's Mereth Aderthad presentation, I was particularly inspired by the overlap (and diversions) in Christian, Jewish, and Buddhist thought about things like acceptance of fate/free will, which were topics that came up in her creator interview. I immediately thought of Sam's speech to Frodo about being in "great stories," as well as Galadriel's comment in the films to Frodo that this task was appointed to him alone. To that end, I attempted to write a story that addressed free will, fate/chance, nihilism, faith, and humility as I saw them in Tolkien's work through these various theological lenses.

The allusions I make, in case anyone is interested in the larger context:

The line about "Who am I, that I should..." is an allusion to Exodus 3:11 where Moses asks God why he should go to Pharaoh. (This is interesting, because, on the one hand it's like...You are Pharaoh's grandson. But! The Torah was written by many different sources, and this line is attributed to the E source. Now, the E source does not place Moses in Egypt at all! That part comes entirely from other versions of the stories, which basically were redacted together into one comprehensive version. When you separate out the source texts, the E source begins with Moses in Midian. In the "complete" version with which you may be familiar, and indeed in other sources, he gets to Midian after fleeing Egypt. But...In the E source Moses really is just some random Midianite who is like, "Why is this my problem?" Which I think connects to Frodo in interesting ways.)

The tale about "This too shall pass" is a Midrash, or rabbinic tale, about King Solomon. 

"The story will find you in the end" is a reference to Jonah, who tries to flee when God calls on him to be a prophet. (Does not work out well for Jonah!) That was what I was going for with the idea of a voice overcoming and speaking through Frodo. 

The phrase "welling up" is a reference to Amos 5:24.

"I was myself" is a reference to a Hasidic tale recounted by Martin Buber. Jewish folk tradition holds that when you die, you stand before a heavenly Sanhedrin (high rabbinic court) of God and the heavenly host. In this story, Rabbi Zusya laments that when he dies, the angels will not ask him, "Why were you not Moses?" or "Why were you not Joshua?" but rather, "Why were you not Zusya?"