They are so innocent. So innocent, carrying such strength. Strength of will, strength of character, strength of courage... strength of the most powerful dark magic imaginable.
Yet, my father wants to wield it.
I know it cannot be wielded by anyone save its creator. I know that is is futile to bring it to Osgiliath, to my father, so he can fall deeper into the madness that has taken hold of him.
Then, why do I bring it to him?
I do not want the Ring. I never wanted it... I told my father before I left, "I would not take it. Not if it lay by a highway, would I take it."
He laughed at me. He laughed at me, saying, "Then don't soil your own hands with it if that be your wish. You never have to lay a finger on it... just bring it to me. If it lay by a highway, do not touch it as you claim, but see fit to move the highway to Osgiliath, as I command it in my palm."
He thinks it will make him a king. He wants to be king. Boromir wanted to be the most powerful Steward. I only want to be a captain among my men. To live a life free of my father's glare.
I cannot until he is satisfied. I look down at the Hobbits, see how scared and worried they are. I did not mean to frighten them. When I saw the Ring, when I had my sword up to the Ringbearer's chest, looking at the object of Desire and Despair... I almost felt like another person had inhabited my being.
I did not want the ring even then. I knew my father wanted it. I knew that if I did not bring the Ring to him, I would forfeit my life. This was a chance for me to prove myself.
My men know and love me. My people know and love me. My brother knew and loved me. My father knows me best of all... and hates me.
What does that say about me? About my character, my conduct? What have I done so ill toward him to make him despise me? To give me my name, my duties?
What have I done to him, to hope that I fail every step on a lonely road?
I know not... I only know that he wants the One Ring that can destroy all. He will be used and betrayed by the Dark Lord if he uses it. He cares not.
"I know more than you could possibly imagine."
Those were his words. I know he knows more than I... from the wisdom that comes from learning, age, responsibility, and working hard.
I might not know as much as he, but I know that he cannot use the Ring. Boromir made that mistake, and I know that the Ring had something to do with his death.
I want to prove to him that I can please him. I can prove that I am worthy of being a Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien. I want him to see the look on the Rangers' faces when I am with them, when we are fighting together, helping each other, protecting our homeland.
Why can I not prove this? I do not want to touch the Ring, but bringing it to him could prove this to him.
Yet, he cannot use it.
Shall my life be given to save Middle-earth? Shall I not have a future so my father could steep into his madness? Shall I continue to walk this lonely road?
I look at the Hobbits; they are scared, tired, worried. The Ringbearer has been put through many tests, showing his strength of spirit. His friend has been put through many tests, showing his strength of heart. Shall I show my spirit, my heart? These little ones have done so much... shall it all be thrown away because of my father?
Because I want to prove myself? No. There is too much at stake. These Hobbits have gone through too much.
My life is forfeit. I continue on my lonely road.
