Innocent Eyes

Frodo knows that he shouldn’t be wandering alone, that now more than ever they should stick
together. But he is weary and heartsore and he needs some time alone, some time to breathe.

The Ring is heavier now, a lead weight against his chest and it burns where it touches his
skin. An image of Gandalf’s last moments swim before his vision and he stumbles over an
unseen root.

He wishes now that he didn’t bite his nails, that he had some now to claw at his face,
to feel the blood flowing down his cheeks, to feel something other than this burden he
had never wanted to bear. Something other than this despair, this hoeplessness. For how
could it be other than hopeless?

"We shouldn’t wander alone, little one, especially you," the voice of Boromir startles
him and Frodo looks around, whether for rescue or something else he does not know. The
Lady’s warning is uppermost in his mind and he watches Boromir gather the firewood.

Frodo realises that his mind has been wandering and that Boromir had been speaking to
him, but he only catches the last sentence.

"If you would but lend me the ring," says Boromir, reaching out a hand. The firewood is
gone, but Frodo can see a fire behind his eyes and he steps away. Boromir’s lust for the
Ring is an almost tangible thing and Frodo gasps at the raw need in Boromir's eyes.

"Why do you recoil? I am no thief!" Boromir lunges towards him and Frodo breaks into a
run. He must escape, he must take the Ring out of Boromir’s reach, out of all their reach
for he knows it it will destroy them all. It has already begun with Frodo and he does
not want any of his friends to share in that doom.

Suddenly he feels his legs being grabbed from behind and he is tumbling to the ground,
Boromir pushes him onto his back and lays on top of him. "Give it to me!" demands Boromir
and Frodo struggles, trying to kick, but the Man is too strong and his legs are pinned
beneath him. Frodo tries to get at the Ring, to put it on, if he became invisible then he
might escape. "No! You must not take it Boromir! It will destroy you!"

But Boromir seems to sense his attention and Boromir uses one of his larger hands to hold
Frodo’s hands high above his head. He cannot get to the Ring. Frodo can do nothing but
stare into the eyes of the Man, pleading with them, almost willing him to let Frodo go.

Boromir uses his other hand, the one not pinning Frodo to the ground, to fondle the chain
that lies around Frodo’s neck. He pauses when he reaches the Ring, and does not touch it.
"You have to give it to me willingly," says Boromir in a voice so soft that at first Frodo
is unsure if he heard correctly.

"What?"

"Give me the Ring willingly," he says, more forceful now. "I am not thief and I do not
want to steal it. I want you to give it to me, Frodo. You have to give it to me."

"Boromir, you know I cannot do that! It is my burden alone."

"willwill give me the Ring, Frodo."

"No!" Frodo tries once again to wriggle away from Boromir, but the Man is so much bigger,
so much stronger than him, for Frodo is small and delicate, even for a Hobbit. And then
he stops, glancing up at Boromir in alarm. Frodo’s movements were having an effect on
Boromir, he could feel the Man’s hardness pressing into his stomach and Frodo knows that
he is in a precarious position.

"If I cannot have the Ring, then I will have you!" Boromir’s mouth presses down on him
in a crushing kiss, devoid of all emotion. It was lust of the basest kind, and Frodo knew
that somehow the Ring was behind it. For how could Boromir who’d sworn to protect him, do
this?

Frodo could hardly breathe, with the Man pressing hard against him and he tries to turn
his head away, so that at least he could get some air and he tries once again to dislodge
Boromir, but to no avail. Boromir continues kissing him as if he’d been lost in the de
a
and Frodo is a sweet oasis. And all the while, Boromir’s body thrusts against his. Frodo
shuts his eyes and tries to think of anything, other than what is happening to him.

He feels large hands fumbling with the buttons of his breeches and he manages to wrench
his head free from Boromir’s crushing kisses and finds his voice at last. "NO! Boromir,
stop! What are you doing?"

But Boromir ignores him and continues with his task, almost as if he isn’t even aware that
Frodo is there.

"Boromir, this isn’t you! It’s the Ring! You must fight it!" Frodo squirms, but that only
seems to enflame Boromir’s passions even more if his incoherent groans are anything to go by.

"Boromir! Please! You must not do this!leadleads Frodo, sobbing now. This could not really
be happening to him. It iss some nightmare brought on by the Ring. Any minute now he will
wake up. But he isn’t waking up and Boromir isn't stopping.

Frodo feels his trousers being tugged down to his ankles, closely followed by his
underlinens. They were so far away from the camp, would anyone hear if he called for
help? And then he could not bear the thought of them seeing him like this, the shame of
it. He could not call on them for help.

"You must know how much I’ve wanted you, Frodo. You sit there with you’re innocent eyes,
you must know what they do to us all." His voice is almost gentle now and Frodo finds that
too much to bear. That he can talk so gently to him, as though Frodo is his lover and not
his victim.

"Are you innocent, Frodo? Or has someone plucked you already?"

Frodo doesn't know what the Man means and he tries once again to escape, using all his
strength to push up against the man, but to no avail. Boromir is too heavy and too strong.

When Boromir flips him over onto his stomach, Frodo in his innocence does not at first know
what is about to happen. He watches the insects on the ground by his face, concentrating on
them, on the sounds of the birds on the feel of the leaves on his cheek.

He will not think of the other, the pain, the damage being done to him. He cries out only
once, when Boromir first enters him, at the shock. He has never imagined such things and
wishes now that he does not know of them.

The time seems an infinity to him but then at last, Boromir is finished and collapses
against him. Frodo can feel Boromir’s breath on his neck, harsh and ragged. Tears of shame
and rage burn on Frodo’s cheeks. How could Boromir have done this to him? How? How could he
have allowed it?

At last, Boromir’s weight lifts as he stands up. Frodo is numb. He can hardly move. Pins and
needles dart up and down his body as the blrushrushes back. He tastes blood in his mouth,
metallic and sickly, he has bitten his lip.

"Frodo? Are you all right?" asks Boromir. Frodo does not answer. He cannot speak to Boromir,
he cannot look at Boromir. But now he can move. Now he can put on the Ring. He puts it on
his finger and watches the world dim into shapes and shadows. A world without colour. A
world where he cannot be mauled and stared at with lust.

Frodo stands up slowly, putting his clothes back on with trembling hands. A part of him
still does not believe that it has happened. More than his body has been violated, he feels
part of his soul has been shattered as well. If he looks on the ground, he will see it there,
broken into a thousand jagged pieces.

"Frodo!" Boromir is alarmed now and Frodo can see him looking frantically around for the
Hobbit. "I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it! Please come back! Little one?"

Frodo kicks him once, and then he runs and runs. He doesn’t stop running until he reaches
the fires of Mount Doom and plunges over the ledge…