*Disclaimer! I do not own The Lord of the Rings or anything related to it.
- From the DarknessThe world was dark. So very dark. Nothing existed but pain and fear. That was all Frodo knew and could remember. Especially the pain.
Dimly, Frodo could hear faint voices floating through the fog of his mind that seemed to wrap him layers of suffocating cotton. He could not place the voices, nor understand what they were saying but he could easily pick up on the anxiety coming from them, causing his own fear to increase mightily. What has happening? Where was he? And why, why did his shoulder hurt so much? Frodo struggled to force his mind to wakefulness, but the fog was too thick. He was trapped in the darkness.
Suddenly the pain increased dramatically. Almost as if someone had scored a razor sharp piece of ice down his shoulder. He tried to move, to escape the slicing pain, but he is restrained and his body does little more than send fiery knife slashes through him in response. And then the pain is different. The slicing has stopped only to be replaced by a deeper, worse kind of pain. Almost as if someone was forcing a large piece of ice into him, and it was burning him.
Please, stop! But no one answers the desperate plea in his mind and the merciless pain continues, driving him towards hysteria. It is terrible; burning and slicing and aching all at once.
Frodo screams, but is unaware if it was in his head or out loud. The pain is all consuming and the freezing fire inside of him begins to reach out to stifle the life in him.
And then there are the voices.
The terrible, terrible voices that continue to mock him and his pain. Whispering things of evil to come, how he will fail at a task appointed to him. No! NO! Please stop! Frodo desperately begs, but the voices only laugh at him and the cold presses closer to his heart.
And then he cannot breathe. His heart struggles to beat, each pulse sending pain through his abused body. The cold had come, and there could be no resisting it. It had come to take back what rightfully belonged to it.
Suddenly, just as it seemed the cold had finally won, Frodo felt a strange sense of determination and drew in an aching gasp of air. The pain increased to an impossible state and then began to slowly fade down from its original agony. The voices screeched and hissed in fury but eventually disappeared like wind in the grass.
Frodo did not know it, but it was finally over. All he knew is that the evil he could feel pressing against his heart was gone, and he could finally rest in peace.
