Unveiling the Alternate Fate: How a Fellowship Event Could Have Reshaped a Lord of the Rings Character

In *The Lord of the Rings*, Frodo's journey is marred by the unmistakable fashion in which evil introduces itself—think less charming dinner party and more spine-chilling encounter with the underworld. One of his first major shocks on this thrilling expedition came when he bumped into the Nazgûl at Weathertop, a rather unfortunate meeting that left him with a rather nasty souvenir: a stab wound from the Morgul knife, courtesy of none other than the Witch-king of Angmar. It’s a bit like getting a paper cut, but, you know, significantly worse.

Aragorn, bless his heroic heart, chased off the Nazgûl before they could turn the whole picnic into a nightmare. Yet Frodo wasn’t quite off the hook; he was left with an injury that promised to turn him into a wraith—again, not the kind of transformation anyone dreams about. Fortunately, he made it to Rivendell just in time for Elrond to perform his magical medical magic. The shard of the Morgul knife was removed, but, of course, no good journey comes without its scars—remember, dear reader, that our protagonist is now forced to deal with lingering pain that shows up at the most inconvenient times, aka, when he decides to take a nice little trip back home.

Fast forward to *The Return of the King*, where Frodo, after some relatively uneventful months in the Shire, is hit with the blast from the past, aka, the pain from his little Nazgûl-induced ouch. It’s the anniversary of that terrifying encounter, and oh, look—a delightful reminder of mortality! “He was very pale and his eyes seemed to see things far away,” Tolkien wrote. Which, in more relatable terms, means Frodo's trying to reconcile his last extravagant escapade with the reality of Shire life, but it’s more complicated than figuring out a new recipe for second breakfast.

Understanding Frodo's decision to set sail for the Undying Lands involves a bit of soul-searching, but aren't we all just a little bit tired of our own baggage? The Undying Lands—also marketed as Aman or the Blessed Realm for those of you looking for a bit of hope—isn't some whimsical vacation resort. No, it’s home to godlike spirits and a whole lot of tranquility, where the Elves get their dose of bliss after their earthly escapades. But let’s clarify one thing: Frodo does not come back a vampire; he doesn’t gain immortality. He simply gets the opportunity to live out his days in comfort with a side of healing, because who among us hasn’t longed for a day off?

In his correspondence with fellow novelist Naomi Mitchison, Tolkien mused about how the Undying Lands offered a kind of healing experience that made even Middle-earth’s finest healers look like they were still practicing in medical school. By this point, it’s important to note that Frodo initially hinted at wanting to leave during a rather candid chat with Gandalf in the chapter “Homeward Bound.” Upon sharing the torment from his Morgul wound, he mentions not only that, but also the lovely list of grievances—Shelob’s sting, Gollum’s particularly unfortunate nibble, and the Ring's increasingly obnoxious habit of weighing him down like the worst kind of ex.

The One Ring, as it turns out, is the source of Frodo’s headaches, heartaches, and all manner of existential dread. It’s like that toxic relationship that keeps creeping back into your life at the worst possible moments. Tolkien has a knack for showing us how the Ring’s presence transforms Frodo—not only does it leave behind reminders of physical struggle, but it also carves out a space in Frodo’s psyche that’s more haunted than a Shire ghost story.

Ah, but the Undying Lands offer a glimmer of hope. Imagine it as a much-needed mental spa getaway for the weary Ring-bearer. In a letter, Tolkien asserted that Frodo, once there, would experience a much-needed moment of reflection, perhaps with a nice cup of tea. It wasn't just about healing from physical wounds; it was about coming to terms with the burden he bore and realizing that perhaps he deserved a little peace and quiet, free from the looming shadows of his past.

Then there was the little matter of Bilbo. By the time we’re reaching the end of this epic journey, the old hobbit is the most senior of senior citizens among hobbits, and Frodo faces a dilemma. Should he allow Bilbo to embark on his adventure alone? Deprive him of what he clearly deserves? Or, the third option, which sounds eerily like a classic sitcom setup—join him on this curious voyage to the Undying Lands? Here’s the kicker: Frodo wouldn’t be blissful if Bilbo wasn’t along for the ride, so he makes the choice that tugs at the heartstrings of readers everywhere.

If we took a moment to imagine Frodo back in the Shire, playing house and enjoying second breakfast with Sam and his kids, it’s a lovely picture, until you realize it comes with a tinge of melancholy. Frodo would almost certainly step into a political role in the Shire—perhaps not unlike a beleaguered mayor trying to keep things tidy post-war—yet the ease of day-to-day life would hardly counterbalance his emotional scars. Like so many who survived battles, Frodo would realize that the Shire had irrevocably changed along with him.

So when we consider Frodo's odyssey, it becomes clear that for him, the Undying Lands weren’t just a destination; they were a sanctuary where he could finally unburden himself, shedding the weight of his experiences, and accept his story—where comfort awaited amidst the ethereal backdrop of eternal solace. Only in the Undying Lands could Frodo stitch up the gaping wounds left by his adventures and come to terms with the bittersweet symphony that was his journey in Middle-earth.