A Ring in the Dark

by ringspell

It's the dead of night and all the company has fallen asleep. But one hobbit lays awake, thinking of a love that they left behind. It looks as though Frodo isn't the only one that bears a ring around his neck.

A Ring in the Dark

It was the dead of night and the light of the star Earendil danced along the foam of the Rauros River. The company slept not far from Caras Galadhon, the visions of the golden trees of Lorien still delighting their dreams. But one hobbit lay awake, restless, troubled by the hopeless desire to return home. His right hand strayed across the grass, fingering each blade with care; in his left he clasped a ring, held by the chain of gold fastened around his neck. He thought of the lass to whom he would have given the ring to, if only he had gotten the chance. He ran his fingers through the grass, pretending it was her hair, and that he had never left the beauty of Hobbiton, or her. His fist tightened, and the diamonds cut into his skin. If only she knew. If only he could tell her that he loved her and desired her company more than anything. The hobbit next to him stirred and cried out in his sleep. He quickly tucked the ring within his tunic and out of sight. For now the lass was not his first priority, nor was his own self-contentment. He needed to stay loyal to his master, in the most troubled hours of his life. He shut his eyes, trying to find comfort in the memories of Lorien, but already, the visions of the golden trees had faded.