Hello! School has had me incredibly busy, but I wanted to start a series where I do a deep dive into analyzing and interpreting Lord of the Rings / Silmarillion characters and talking about what they mean to me (these analyses will be mostly based on the books). Here is part one, Frodo Baggins!
Frodo is the embodiment of learning to live with a chronic illness. At the very beginning of Fellowship of the Ring, he is the quintessential hobbit— perhaps even more than the quintessential hobbit. He is described as unusually tall and fair, he is of course the richest person in the Shire after Bilbo leaves everything he owns to him, and he moves through life in comfortability. It is clear that he can even be a bit lazy at times, getting teased for being a bit chubby and waking up with aches at the very beginning of the journey. None of this is to say that he is not extraordinarily brave, however. He offers to take the Ring time and time again, first from the comfort of his home in Bag End and then at the council of Elrond, barely knowing what this journey will inflict upon him.
When we first begin to see the impact that the Ring has on Frodo, it’s nearly shocking. He has been our untouchable main character, not quite heroic but unusually resistant to the Ring’s powers, and suddenly he becomes a reflection of Bilbo and Gollum while under the influences of the Ring’s power. Frodo becomes frightening, to Sam and to himself during the Two Towers. There are spots where his addiction is planted in our minds during the Fellowship of the Ring, however the first few chapters when Frodo begins to interact with Gollum truly show how deeply the Ring has ingrained itself into Frodo’s mind. The disgust that Frodo has with himself for feeling this way is also quite evident, as during the second book he consistently tries to pull himself away from the grip of his newfound pain, eventually to no avail. This all culminates at the end, with something resembling divine intervention required to remove the Ring from Frodo and Gollum’s grasp. Then, once the metaphorical blade has finally been pulled from his flesh, Frodo can finally allow himself to feel all of the pain which culminated over the months and months that he carried this burden. There is a sense of collapsing relief, simultaneous gratitude and agony. While the cause has been destroyed, the effect lingers, and will continue to linger until Frodo passes away. This is the reason that I identify with Frodo. The feeling of having to learn to deal with an eternal illness or ailment does not come easily. To be personal for a moment, I have developed quite serious anemia and low blood pressure throughout the course of puberty and my young adult life, along with a host of other ailments including asthma. The first time I recieved a round of iron transfusions, I felt as if I was finally able to breathe again. I no longer felt fatigued all of the time, there was no headache for the first time in years, and I wasn’t on the verge of fainting at all times. And it was all taken away from me after a few weeks. I cried and cried when all of my symptoms came back, the feeling of temporary relief having been stripped from me. This also unfortunately caused a dip in my already fragile mental health. I assume that Frodo might have felt similarly at points in his journey. There are times that he feels better and then worse again throughout his recovery, the anniversary of the Morgul blade comes back to sting him every year and the constant reminder of a missing finger will always haunt him. That feeling of being scared and disgusted with yourself because of the pain you experience will always strike a chord with me, because I am no saint around my family and friends when experiencing a flare-up. This is ultimately why I love Frodo so dearly, because as he learns and grows with his newfound chronic pain and mental illness, there are still people surrounding him at all times offering love and kindness and support, even in his darkest moments.
