Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any affiliated material. I have not read all of the Lord of the Rings books, merely seen the movies (which I enjoyed!) and am not a Tolkien purist. This is fan fiction.

A/n: This is my first foray into the "Lord of the Rings" fandom since my last ill-fated attempt in which I tried to write an interesting story involving an OC and Legolas and was subsequently rather torn apart because of it. (Being a skittish, inexperienced and easily hurt author at the time, I wrapped up what was a nicely planned out and thought out 20+ chaptered story into a terrible Mary-Sue-ish, poorly written 10 chaptered story! (shakes head)) And so I warily write a small one-shot, set at the time that Frodo and Sam were stuck on Mount Doom as lava flowed all around them, before the Eagles rescued them. I love reviews and feedback! Lastly, this was inspired by the prompt "Fire". Hope you like it. :)

Fire

He had never in his wildest dreams imagined his life could end like this. Never, ever could he have imagined what would occur to bring him to this point. Never would he have guessed he would die laying on a chunk of rock surrounded by lava, wasting away from starvation and dehydration. He vaguely wondered what would kill him first: the starvation, dehydration or lava.

A tear made to squeeze out onto his cheek but with the intense heat from the lava, it vaporized almost instantly.

He felt too weak to move any longer. In truth, he had been too weak to continue for months now and yet somehow he had pushed on. Perhaps it was ever loyal Sam, prodding him onwards gently, always with an encouraging "Just a little further, Mr. Frodo", "Don't worry, Mr. Frodo, we're nearly there now, nearly there" or "Think how much easier it will be on the way back, Mr. Frodo". Perhaps it was the small part of him that wasn't being eaten away by the ever-present darkness, the part that remembered how to laugh and smile, remembered how it felt to be a carefree hobbit, remembered the Shire and the taste of strawberries. Perhaps it was that part of him that gathered a little strength to keep on, finish the task that he been set to him and save the world so he could go back home, go back to the Shire, go back to laughter and smiles, to being a carefree hobbit and strawberries again.

Whatever it was, wherever that strength had come from, he had made it to Mordor, to Mount Doom and finally the Ring that had corroded his soul for so long as he carried it was gone. Forever. And the darkness was gone too. He could go back.

As the fiery lava continued to pulse and pour all around him, however, Frodo knew there was no going back, no return journey, no seeing the Shire one last time, no more being a carefree hobbit ever again.

He clutched Sam's hand tight – his only friend left, his brother, here with him at the end. Here at the end of all things…

He slowly let his eyes close and he imagined he was in the Shire and the heat on his face was the sun and he was laying on newly cut grass, a carefree hobbit. He was far, far away from the fire and lava, happily eating freshly picked strawberries.

-End-

A/n: Just a little scene. Hope you enjoyed it. :) Thanks for reading!