When I inhale, I can feel
the taste, that wonderful scent of your hair. Of rosemary and rain.
I bury my face in your hair to escape your cold face, trying frantically to
warm your icy hands
with my own, rubbing them, kissing them, clasping them. I kneel beside you when
the gravitation
gets too heavy on my shoulders, makes me wrap my arms around you to warm you.
I have to get you
warm, my foal. I look up at you through the thick fog of ashes and dust;
draw circles in your face
with my grimy hands that are in contrast to your pale face features.
Please Frodo.
I press my
hands to your chest, embrace your head and hug you. Fiercely. Your heart has
gone
silent inside your body, and I hear myself cursing the offspring of Ungoliant
because your body
is cold, numb. Dead. My hands shake when they hold yours but I manage to keep
still for your
sake. You don't want to see your Sam in this condition, now, do you? I lie down
next to you and
press my body against yours; I will remain here by your side until there is
only dust and powder
left of you and your beautiful, brown hair. I cry in silence and kiss your thin,
pale lips; I
bite and nibble them until they are coloured by your own blood, as to wake you,
my Frodo.
I whisper
in your ear, little promises of love and dreams and other nonsense that I thought
I had forgotten about long ago. I feel the ashes and the bile burn in my throat
but it does
not trouble me anymore; I have slipped into oblivion. You are lying lifeless
with your head
rolled to the side, pale as the light of Eärendil that still glows in my
hand, silent, as if
you feared the disciple of death. With the scythe in his hand, he shall stand
and wait for you,
I hear the voice of my Gaffer in my head, I remember when he once sat by the
fireplace and told me stories about
revenge and death. He did not know what I do now, about you. Please, Frodo,
will you not open your
eyes?
I can feel
myself, deep inside of your when you writhe and moan underneath me, and I fill
you
with my seed, my flesh, my heart, my blood. I kiss your face, shining with sweat
and tears of
joy and bliss. Open your eyes, light my path again for it is dead and cold and
dark now, and I
shall forever breathe your air into my lungs. You bleed like the spring, me
dear, when buds break
and bloom.
When I think,
the darkness around me seems deeper, almost black. Like a bottomless hole. Your
face is still shining in the darkness and I caress every single line, slowly,
to memorise,
to remember if I ever return. Your golden eyebrows; the wrinkle in your chin,
the soft shape
of your mouth, and somewhere in my recollection, I see you; the youngster in
the gardens of Bag
End, with velvet clothes and light blue star-eyes. You remind me of play, children,
clouds heavy
with rain, the damp smell of green, healthy plants and deep seas where the mysteries
dwell.
"What
shall I do...?" I whisper and kiss the base of your throat, "Did I
come all this way with
him for nothing?" Is my love lost? Cursed and left to despair? Like a bolt
of lighting,
something penetrates the pit of my stomach and I see the contours of the Ring
underneath
your shirt. It whispers in a voice filled with lust and passion, lures me, come
to me,
little hobbit. You who have lost everything the sun set eyes on. What is it
for you now,
when all hope is dead?
When I look
at you, I know what I must do. I suddenly feel how everything clears, like clouds
on
a heavenly blue sky, as if you have made the decision for me. I know now. I
feel how a part of me
I never thought I had, becomes solid, like a rock, somewhere within. A power
of iron, of
determination, buried in the very bones of my body. A power that makes me sit
up, lay your hands
against your chest after I have kissed your fingers, one by one, and caressed
your all too slim
cheeks for the last time. But I feel no hatred. Only an enormous fatigue that
overwhelms me, but
also makes me strong. It is you, Frodo, who live and thrive in me. Like a foetus
in my memory,
I know you will follow me.
"I wish
I wasn't the last," I say out loud, "I wish old Gandalf was here or
somebody. Why am I
left all alone to make up my mind? I'm sure to go wrong. And it's not for me
to taking the Ring,
putting myself forward." I close my eyes until I see your reflection before
me in the clear water
of Lothlórien, how your body moved under the surface and the sounds that
escaped your throat
when my body welded with yours.
I don't remember
speaking, but my mouth is open and the words are already cooling on my tongue.
"Then take It, it is!" I hear myself saying, but it is like the voice
belongs to someone else.
I unbutton your shirt slowly, pretend that you are just resting, waiting for
me to come to bed.
I imagine myself unbuttoning your shirt because we are to make love, not because
I am to take the
ring from you, something I would never do unless you were gone, long gone, cold
and stiff and...
I feel the sorrow again, and I grasp you, to ensure that you are there. That
you were not just an
imagination, an illusion that my mind created to put away for rainy days.
"Goodbye,
beloved," I whisper, because those words are for your ears only, "Forgive
your Sam.
He'll come back to this spot when the job's done - if he manages it." I
look at him where he
lies, "And then he'll never leave you again." I take your sword, Sting;
it's cold steel shining
dull in the deep darkness, and I stick it in my empty sheath.
When I put
the chain around my neck, my knees bend until they almost touch the ground and
the
gold that burns in my flesh also surrounds my soul; like a thick wall of stone
I can feel its
power. But I can also feel the light; your white light, that refuses to diminish
or be put out
and I arise from my position to stand up on staggering legs. My love is
stronger than the gold of
this ring, more beautiful than the chain that binds it.
I turn around
to lay my eyes on you; your residual glow has not yet faltered and I see how
it
shines through you as if you were the Son of the sun himself. I will see you
on the blue quilt,
my friend, against the dark vault above when the sun sets, and I shall think
of you then. When
the stars show their glittering faces, I shall remember you and bring you out
of the darkness.
You can hide inside me, if you want to. I am in love with you; the master
of my heart.
The darkness
falls around me when I start walking again down the depths of my own vertiginous
fear and fright. The sharp rocks under my feet cut and scratch my feet when
I stumble on into the
black night. I know that I will fail myself in here, as I have failed you.
I will lose my way in here.
If you do not shine for me.