While the obvious object of Frodo Baggins’ quest is to rid Middle-Earth of the evil of the One Ring, this is but a part of a much larger vision which J.R.R. Tolkien had for the character. In his master work, the author uses the experiences of the Ringbearer to reflect upon the value of compassion.

The issue of compassion, or pity, is raised early in Frodo’s journey. In the chapter entitled "Shadow of the Past", Gandalf tells Bilbo’s heir of the true nature of the Ring that has passed to his keeping. Frodo’s first reaction is one of shock and horror. He curses the circumstances that have brought this overwhelming burden upon him. In particular, he lashes out against the wretch, Gollum. "What a pity that Bilbo did not stab that vile creature, when he had a chance!" he says. Gandalf responds to this statement, voiced in fear and ignorance, in words that are to have a profound influence on the course which Frodo will follow. In the speech which begins "Pity? It was pity that stayed his hand …" Gandalf explains the value of pity to both the recipient (in this case, Gollum’s life is spared) and to the one who extends it ("Be sure that (Bilbo) took so little hurt from the evil, and escaped in the end, because he began his ownership so. With Pity."). Gandalf goes on to hint at the limitless possibilities which may arise from a single act of compassion ("…the pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many — yours not the least.").

To learn something well, one must be provided with both example and opportunity to practise. This is true of values just as it is of skills. Much of the action in The Fellowship of the Ring is a continuous cycle with Frodo acting as recipient then benefactor of compassion. It begins with Gandalf’s pledge to help the young hobbit "for as long as (the Ring) is (his) burden to bear", and Frodo’s acceptance of his role as Ringbearer. It is compassion for their cousin’s unenviable destiny which motivates Merry and Pippin to accompany Frodo, and Frodo’s deep feelings for them which prevent him from abandoning them to the horror of the barrow-wights. At Rivendell, Frodo is tenderly cared for by the great and the wise, and it is there that he volunteers to do what they dare not ("I will take the Ring to Mordor, though I do not know the way".). At the close of Book II, it is, at least in part, Frodo’s concern for his companions which moves him to set off alone, thus sparing them from what awaits in Mordor. However, at the last possible moment, Frodo himself is spared from lonely exile by the compassion of another, of Sam who vows anew to accompany his master to the very end.

This pattern of reciprocal compassion continues into the opening of Book IV. For example, arriving at a dangerous precipice, Frodo and Sam argue as to who will be the first to attempt the descent. Each would rather risk his own safety than see the other come to harm. Being willing to risk one’s own wellbeing for another is indeed noble. However, so far in his experience, those for whom Frodo has sacrificed have been those for whom he cared deeply — good souls, and worthy. This is all about to change with Gollum’s actual physical entry into the Ringbearer’s life.

In an effort to protect his master, Sam sets upon Gollum but the wily creature soon gets the better of the hobbit. Frodo draws his sword and would slit Gollum’s throat to save both Sam and himself. Killing Gollum, or at least tying him up, seems to like an impeccably good idea to Sam, as it does to most first-time readers. Yet as he stands over the grovelling, repulsive wretch, Frodo feels great pity for him, and Gandalf’s voice comes back to him — though he misremembers the wizard’s words "…be not too eager to deal out death in the name of justice, fearing for your own safety". In this epiphanal moment with Gollum, Frodo’s behaviour is indeed heroic. In sparing Gollum’s life, Frodo moves to an understanding that true compassion is dealt in equal measure to the worthy and the unworthy, to the loveable (such as Sam) and to the loathsome. Frodo even offers Gollum a chance at healing and redemption, and in addressing the creature by its true name, Smeagol, restores to Gollum some part of his own lost self.

Frodo’s continued compassionate treatment of Gollum provokes an interesting split in the creature’s personality, which Sam observes as Gollum leans over the sleeping Frodo. While Sam clandestinely listens, a debate is conducted between the venomous, selfish Gollum and the newly reawakened Smeagol. The Gollum personality continues to pursue its centuries-old objective: possession of the Ring. It speaks of its rights to the "Precious" and of its hatred for anyone who would deprive it of its treasure, most especially Bagginses. "No, not this Baggins," the Smeagol personality insists. In Smeagol is growing a warm feeling for this one individual in over five hundred years who has treated him as a whole person.

Frodo’s compassion for Gollum goes much deeper than simply altruism or charity. Frodo recognizes his kinship, through the Ring, with this ruined creature. In a way that few, and certainly not Sam, could understand, Frodo knows the toll that the Ring takes on those who bear it. Frodo sees Gollum and understands that anyone, himself most definitely included, could be so reduced by the possession of the Ring. One of the founding principles of compassion in many religions is the recognition of the oneness of all being, of recognizing in the frailty and weaknesses of others, one’s own frailty and weakness. Though his compassion strengthens Frodo, its roots are found in humility.

Yet, despite the touching scene on the Stairs of Cirith Ungol where it does seem as if Smeagol’s naisant love for Frodo will triumph over Gollum’s obsession with the Ring, the creature does betray its benefactor. Frodo is wounded by Shelob, captured by Orcs, stripped, humilated, tortured and , for a time, abandoned.

In The Two Towers, we know Frodo at his strongest, leading and protecting his companions. In the opening of The Return of the King, he is at his most pitiable — and often neither very likeable nor noble. At this point in the narrative, the Ring has all but consumed Frodo, body and mind. When the faithful Sam tells his master how he has saved the Ring from discovery, Frodo first praises his servant, then lashes out, accusing Sam of being a thief. It takes all of the will he can manage for Frodo to regain himself and beg Sam’s pardon. In asking for Sam’s forgiveness, Frodo passes over completely, for a time, from benefactor to recipient of compassion.

The reunion of the hobbits and Gollum at the Cracks of Doom is a pivotal moment in Frodo’s education in compassion. Failure is often the best teacher, and it is here that Frodo fails completely. At this meeting, as Sam so clearly sees, the sight of Gollum leaves Frodo "untouched by pity". Frodo’s pity, his compassion, is the core center of all that he is, it has been the source of the strength of his own will. When Frodo fails in pity, he fails completely. His will is subjugated and he cannot destroy the Ring. Were it not for Gollum, all would be lost. Yet one must remember that Gollum is only present by the earlier compassion of Frodo. Thus, one sees again the cyclical nature of pity. The Ring finally destroyed and his senses restored, Frodo feels only gratitude to the creature who has robbed and maimed him.

For a time, then, Frodo remains an object of compassion — of Gandalf who comes to his rescue, of Aragorn who tends his wounds and of Arwen who gives to Frodo the option of release should his pain become too much to bear.

The return to the Shire alters Frodo once again. He becomes once more the strong leader and protector, prepared to assume his responsibilities for the good of others. However now he has a greater understanding of that role. He is older, he is wiser, he is at once more able and more humble. His own suffering has made him more fully aware of the suffering of others. Naturally he feels compassion for what the hobbits have suffered under the occupation. However, also he pities collaborators such as Lotho and even the actual enemies of the Shire. Back in Shelob’s lair, when they had realized Gollum’s treachery, Sam had wished to wring the creature’s neck. Frodo had pointed out the futility of such a desire. At the Battle of Bywater, Frodo once again stays the hand of vengeance, preventing angry hobbits from killing of those of Sharkey’s men who surrender.

All that Frodo has learned about the measure of compassion comes to full fruition in the confrontation between he and Saruman. The wizard, filled with rage and hate, has taken delight in spoiling the homeland of Gandalf’s beloved hobbits. Frodo expresses his pity for one so reduced in true understanding, and though his countrymen would see their tormentor punished, Frodo once more stands against revenge. Even when Saruman, enraged by Frodo’s pity for him, tries to kill the Ringbearer, Frodo will not see him harmed. Again Frodo recognizes that the fate that has befallen Saruman could have as easily blighted anyone. He sees that each of us is equally connected to the low as to the noble, and that compassion must be dealt with an even hand regardless of merit.

The issue of merit is raised a final time in "The Grey Havens". However, this time it is Frodo’s own merit which is at question, as well as his own right to compassion. Let us not forget, for he never does, that Frodo is a fallen soul. He failed — not so much by that moment at the Cracks of Doom when he could not destroy the Ring, but in his continued longing for it. For this reason, he can find no peace in the Shire and so, once again, he allows himself to be the beneficiary of the compassion of others. He leaves with Gandalf and the Elves for the healing lands to the West.

If The Lord of the Rings is primarily Frodo Baggins’ story and the nature of compassion the center of Frodo’s experience, then what is it that Tolkien wishes, ultimately, to express about this value? It is my belief that Tolkien hopes the reader takes away from the Ringbearer’s story a greater understanding of how compassion is founded in humility. It is a recognition of oneself in others and of others in oneself. It is a knowledge that one cannot base the measure of compassion upon the worth of an individual, for this is unknowable to mere mortals. And, finally, that each of us has within him, continuously and equally, the ability to extend compassion and the need to feel its blessing