Desire
Prologue: Sleep
Category: The Lord of the Rings
Genre: Drama/Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Characters: The One Ring, Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Sméagol/Gollum
Summary: Sort of a sequel to 'Precious'. Based on a dream I had, the Ring comes to Frodo in a vision and attempts to seduce him. The road ahead is a long one. Bonds may break. Emotions run high. The One Ring's POV once again.
Disclaimer: I don't own any characters or the story of The Lord of the Rings.
A/N: This was another idea of mine that came from a dream I had one night. Please review and tell me what you think. : smile :
Oh, and for the record, this story is from the Ring's POV once again. In the dream, I saw it as a character…a vision speaking to its Bearers, following the name 'Precious'. So…I suppose you can call this a sequel to the other story…only it's not.
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The night was dark and dreary. So dark and cold. I have remembered most of these nights.
Wind. It howls now like a dying, wounded animal, around and around…and around. As if it is the last pleading call of an unworthy stranger. Someone lost…and alone. It sort of gratifies me…gives me life. I live to hear another one's pain. It strengthens my resolve…brings me balance, support.
The moon is covered. It always is in this land. So full of pain, hurt and torment…the air poisonous and strong, choking you…suffocating you. A black mountain protruding in the distance…the rainbow of your fears. The answer is lying there. It always has been.
There is no life to be found. You have only yourself for company on this path, the light is gone and faded, and has left only its shadow behind for a while. I feel at home on this land, where the charcoal mountains rise up to kill, and threaten you with their existence. I feel protected…warm and secure.
Even though the night is cold and dark.
I like it here. I feel warm in the cold. It brings such a welcome of comfort.
Mordor. Now I remember the name. Now I remember where I am. Mordor…
I rise up from my prison, a circle of gold enslaving me, trapping me inside. Though I do not feel like a prisoner, but of a free soul, brought onto the wind by a gust so strong that it lifts me high. Higher than I ever dreamed I could go. And the only way to go back is to come down.
I do not mind this, the world is out for me to see. And I am resting in my beloved home, with the ash and the filth, and the choking air. But this does not bother me. For my eyes see a welcoming view, of a vision so lovely and clear that it is almost that of the silky mind.
My gaze is cast before me. I see the Shadow Mountain, far in the distance. How I curse that place, the one thing I feel anger for in this perfect land of mine. It is my most feared patience, I will never go to it. The fires of the flame are so hot and uninviting…so harsh and severe to bring me to my own doom.
I prefer the cold. The dark. I am warm in the dark.
I shudder with rage as I imagine the heat licking me to my death, melting me whole. For I, even if though I am not cast into that terrible punishment, my security may. I have no power to stop my own life being taken up there, even if I choose not to follow.
And I will fade into the fire. Never to see this land again.
It is improving, this place. The shadows have grown higher, they are covering the valley. With every passing moonlight and sunlight I fear the light will bring something back. Something to be compared with the other hills of this Earth, a spoiled piece of grass…dirty and confounded.
But still of life. I cannot bear to think such things. I will not think. I will watch.
I cast my eyes away from the Mountain with another cold sneer. The heat is giving me my own…my own coldness. If any were true, opposites are in mind. Warmth is my enemy in this life. It always has been. The dark keeps you safe.
Safe. I want to be safe.
I look across to the dirtied ground. There lie two figures, separate from one another but still in their peaceful dreams. They have been my followers, attempting to do this task that I fear may come to my end. They have tried so hard…only to fail.
I study them with a comforting smile. How beautiful they are in sleep. They only have dreams for hope…dreams to keep their spirits alive. But it will not save them in the end. Their task is folly, they wish for success of this madness. They believe it can be done. I pity their good will…I pity their strength of heart.
Can they not see the end before them?
I watch them closely, watch their chests rise and fall as they breathe. As they breathe in this ash and poison, destroying themselves as they try too hard. I know of their names, they call to one another in their nightmares, in their dying thoughts. They are hobbits, smaller than Men.
Men. How I scorn them…weak fools. They all fell down so easily. So predictable it was, for me to see their end befall them, to watch every one fade and be drawn down to their greed. In all of my while I had never seen such a struggle as them, as what they came to be.
But this…
This is what interests me. Two small creatures, proceeding further than that of the hands of many. Their loyalty lies only in each other, the world means nothing to their eyes until they succeed. I scorn them too…and yet, I praise them for coming so far.
Sméagol became much more than that. He devoted his life…became my eternal friend for all those long, long years. I did repay him for all of that, he has not forgotten my own loyalty. He was a sight to witness…he claimed he suffered but he did not.
Oh no, he did not.
But enough of that. My interests lie in these hobbits now. I watch them again, ever more carefully as their sleep continues to persist. They seem so free of their own world. So many differences in their faces…faces like angels they have. So smooth and unusual for battle. They have not borne a time when their city has fallen, when their homeland has diminished.
They are like angels of heart. The poor things.
I lick my lips from the dry dust. Their tangled, curly hair lies in locks about their faces. One dark, and one with a sandy shade. The fading shadows play upon their faces. The soft wind teases their skin. One dark…and one light.
One dark, and one light.
The light will bring something back, I fear it so. Like the moon and the sun, I fear it may bring something back to this land, something once forgotten. I cannot bear the thought. Doubts cross my mind as I study this one. It could be the end for my land.
But the other one…
The dark keeps you safe. I am warm in the dark.
Lo! How their eyes shine when they are awake! Yet, it is opposite. The light carries dark pools of distrust, like spring bogs of mud when the moon is full. It brings me to misery to see it. But the dark one carries wells of crystal, shimmering and beautiful. The dark always carries the comfort. It has always been this way.
See how he handles that trinket of mine? I am for sure safe in his grasp. How I long to comfort him further, give him desire. Temptation writhes to him as a snake, it coils, tightens around his fragile chest and softens his skin, whispering gently in his ear.
"Precious…"
I call to my home, my Master. How I wish to find my way. I call again. I call to Him.
"I shall return…"
I call to the hobbit Frodo. The one who protects me with care and fondness. I hear his torture, I listen to his struggle every waking day. It is like a strange, persisting battle for him, one he has never experienced. He is not used to this war…this pain. He is unknown to its wrath.
But no matter.
Tonight, I realise. Tonight will be his time. It will be both our time. He is suffering in my eyes, I see it. I will not let him do this task. I have to find my way.
I will come to him. Tonight, the time will be ours.
To be continued
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