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Aragorn of the many names reveals his lineage, Frodo cries, “Then it belongs to you!” He offers it outright to Galadriel, who says to him, “Gently are you revenged for my testing of your heart at our first meeting;” and then, in one of the most memorable scenes in the book, proceeds to scare the snot out of him, before concluding, “I pass the test. I will diminish, and go into the West, and remain Galadriel.” Boromir tries to seize it by force, but afterward redeems himself, according to his rough warrior’s code, by dying in defense of the Fellowship. Boromir’s brother Faramir, brashly declares that he would not pick it up if he found it lying in the road, and then, more nobly, proceeds to demonstrate the truth of his words. Denethor, who never gets within snatching distance of the thing, rhapsodizes on what he would do with it. In Mordor, the temptation is put first to Gollum, then to Sam, and ultimately to Frodo himself.
    Frodo travels through Middle-earth like some kind of God-sent integrity test. The Wise, if they were truly so, upon seeing that he had come to visit, would shriek, “Oh, no! It’s that fucking hobbit! I’m not in!” and slam the door in his face.
    Here is the true purpose of the Ring-quest: not to destroy the source of power, but to test all of creation and decide whether it is worthy of continuance. Frodo’s quest, though he doesn’t know it, is a scouring of Middle-earth.
    What’s most interesting about the testing is that Frodo fails it.
    What an odd protagonist Frodo turns out to be! He starts out well enough. The Lord of the Rings begins as a children’s book and the sequel to a children’s book, and through the first half of The Fellowship of the Ring struggles to emerge from its own failings, ranging from the unconvincing comic relief of the bumptious rustics to the twee insistence that hobbits are still among us, too quick and shy to be seen. Still, there are cunning bits of craft worked in there. Cleverly slipped into the creaking machinery surrounding Bilbo’s “eleventeenth” birthday is the information that it is also Frodo’s first day as an adult.
    Okay, I was an English major. I know what a bildungsroman is. The coming-of-age novel has a venerable and well-known structure, and initially Frodo looks to be fulfilling it. He starts out cheerful, brave, resolute, and more than a little naive. When his duty is made clear to him, he stands up and, though with shrinking heart, unflinchingly accepts it.
    But then, as he travels deeper into the heart of the matter, headed for Mordor, that perpetual dark night of the soul, he grows more and more passive, falls more and more silent. The business, for good and ill, of being the protagonist is perforce shouldered by his two talkative (they are needed to distract from his silence) companions, Sam and Gollum.
    Sam and Gollum are interesting characters. But they are not completely comprehensible unless you realize that they are both aspects of Frodo. Taken in isolation, Sam is simply too good to be believed. He never shirks, never sulks, never gives a single thought to himself, unless it’s of reproach for not having done well enough. His every action is motivated by love. He is (or becomes) the externalization of all that is best in Frodo. He fulfills the arc of growth a bildungsroman requires. Samwise Gamgee, the child who ran away from home hoping to see an oliphaunt, returns to the Shire as a man with the strength and decency needed to take his place in the community, and raise a family.
    Where Sam is the Good Boy, Gollum is the Bad. It is not mere coincidence that Gollum is himself a fallen hobbit, nor that he and Sam unfalteringly hate each other. He has the Ring-bearer’s determination, resourcefulness, and perseverence, though in a misguided cause. He is what Frodo would become, were he to surrender to the lure of the Ring. But since he is really a part of Frodo, he is not entirely evil, but only as evil as such a hero