Disclaimer: The dream is my own, though those who come alive in its depths belong to Tolkien.
(curse him)
I had a dream not so long ago that sent a shiver down my spine and an ache in my heart. But I didn't care. I would have a hundred dreams like the one you are about to read, even if it sent stabs of pain throughout my body on every awakening. It is torture, yes; but it is also how I live--how I survive.
WHAT DARKNESS BRINGS;
WHAT DAYLIGHT KILLS
I didn't know where I was, but it seemed to be of little consequence. Humans walked about me, hurrying along business that they alone cared for. Everywhere it was uncomfortably crowded and I had a hard time seeing beyond the thick wall of bodies. It seemed to me that I stood in an opened area, with no roof above my head. It was dark, I believe, for beyond the mass of humans and their noisy ways there seemed naught to behold but an empty existence. It was very dark and cold beyond the ring, but inside it was light.
To either side of me, I could see nothing save humans upon humans. Beyond them, my senses dulled and it was difficult to tell what lay there. To my right, I could see nothing and knew not at all what I should find there, should I so choose to take that course. Upon my left, there were booths. They were lined up against a wall of some sort and those who sat in their cushioned depths were lost in shadows; either that or I merely paid them little mind.
My attention was focused on a group of humans that walked before me. They chatted and talked, laughed and teased, and I watched them and followed. There was little sense of belonging in the group and even now I am uncertain why I walked with them. I knew these people, yes, and I think some I might have even referred to as "friends" but I had no place among them. Not now.
I followed at a distance; my steps were slow, but measured. It seemed I followed them for ages though I know it can't be so. What they spoke of held little interest for me and my mind and attention soon wandered. I found myself watching the booths to my left; though, if truth were told, I noted their passing with little interest. I continued as such for a time before my eyes, almost as if I sensed something, found and fell upon a small character. He was seated alone, though I do not recall for certain, for my attention was held and fixed on that person only--none other.
He seemed engrossed in something (his food perhaps) and his head was bowed. It took only a moment--nay, less than a moment--before I realized I knew this small figure. I cried out suddenly--in surprise and disbelief, in amazement and delight, but most of all I cried out in joy--in pure indescribable joy.
And the hobbit looked up. His round face held confusion for only an instant, and then it lit up in recognition and a smile beamed on his homely face.
"Sam!" I squealed, and even before he could respond--speak or otherwise get up--I leapt for him. My arms wrapped around him so tightly, as though I feared at any moment he might disappear. He laughed then--a deep throaty laugh, a Samwise laugh!--and I knew he was for real! My lips swept over his face--his cheeks, brow, chin, and nose--as if I would taste him and make certain he was indeed my Sam.
"Where are the others?" I asked breathlessly, so excited I thought I might burst. He smiled and blushed and waved behind me.
"There," he said and I turned.
I don't remember leaving Sam but leave him I did, for once again I stood within the crowd of bustling humans, though this time I was searching eagerly for a familiar face.
I don't recall my meeting with Merry but certainly I did meet him, for in my mind I see him, standing there all alone. But for the life of me I cannot remember running to him, talking or laughing with him. I did, though, I know I did--I must have!
I remember Pippin though. I ran to him and my heart sang. His face brightened when he saw me, in disbelief and then joy, and he would have run to me but I was already there. I threw myself to my knees before him--for he was so small!--and I looked into his eyes (and yet I cannot recall their color!) and I hugged him, he embracing me in turn. Much as I had done with Sam, I kissed him. But Pippin, with ever that mischievous glint in his eye, pulled away and tried to hold me back, crying, "No, no!" I ignored him, however, and clung to him anyway. He laughed and yelled all the louder and in my mind it was almost as though he cried, "Ack! Cooties, girl cooties!"
I laughed then at his weak attempts to fend me off. I knew his playfulness as well as the back of my hand and, quick as could be, I kissed him on the nose. I grinned at his indignant expression, only wanted to kiss him again, but instead asked, "Where's Frodo?"
My tone was urgent, longing, and fearful.
"Over there," he said and it seemed as if he wished to wipe the terrified expression off my face. He gave me a confident and reassuring look. I dashed in that direction, in the direction his small hand had shooed me.
And there he was. Standing there alone, with all those humans walking around him, putting him out of place. He saw me then and I knew he did not believe his own eyes, just as I couldn't believe my own. I couldn't, for if he was naught but a dream I knew my heart would break.
My footfalls faltered--I was uncertain of my step. I did not run to him as I had done to Sam and Pippin (did I run to Merry?), though the gods knew I wanted nothing else. For some reason I couldn't. Fear, I deem. Fear that he was not real, that when I reached over and touched him he would shatter and float away on the wind.
Several steps away, I stopped and looked down at him--he was so small and I was so god forsakenly tall! My legs buckled and I collapsed to my knees before him. Not a word was spoken between us, not a breath was drawn. Timidly, fearfully, I crept my hand out, terrified that when I touched him he would vanish and I would be left alone. His own hand reached out to meet mine and our hands clasped and our fingers intertwined. Wide-eyed, I looked up at him and he looked at me, his sapphire eyes glimmering.
I laughed then, though it sounded more like a sob and I buried my face in his chest, grasping him and clinging to him. He wrapped his arms around me and I wept into his shirt. And yet he never minded, for he wept in my hair. And the gods be damned if I cared!
That is how I should have remained--with Frodo holding me. But dawn came and, truly, my world--my Frodo--shattered.
*****
I'm not sure why I wrote this and I am even less certain why I am posting it. I don't think I should benefit from it; indeed, it is rather shameful. But I am posting it.
Perhaps I am curious if others have similar experiences, or if I am alone.