Title: On the Slopes of Death
Author: Eärillë
Number: N33
Challenges:
1. Deep Thoughts: Beyond
2. Emotions: Courage
3. Textures: Coarse
Summary:
They had done their task to the best of their abilities, and it was probably the end now. Not a happy ending, yes, but they knew that happy endings were only for stories. Besides, there was the second – final – destination to hope for.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: character death, first draft
Characters: Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee
Genres: Alternate Universe, Character Study, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship
Place: Mordor: slopes of Orodruin
Timeline: Third Age: the destruction of the One Ring
Word Count (in MS Word): 467
Notes: There are some tweaks to the original text, including the ending, and that is why the author labelled the story AU. It is the second time she makes an AU of the event in Sammath Naur. If you were interested, you could check her other snippet (a drabble): "The Last Resort".
On the Slopes of Death
The Ring had been destroyed.
He had failed, but the Ring had been destroyed anyway. Gandalf had been right. Gollum had done something good in the end, although unwittingly and in so gruesome a manner.
He had done his part, at any rate, and now he was tired – so, so tired. Gollum had fallen into the Sammath Naur together with the Ring, and Orodruin raged in response. Lying sprawled on the tortured earth, he could feel it throbbing beneath him, rumbling and coughing up deadly stones and molten fire.
Despite everything, he was glad that Sam was there with him, lying at his side just as that beloved friend of his had stood by him in happier, less tiresome times. He wished Sam would have lived longer, living the life he would never have owing to the Ring's influence, but he knew they could not take all happy things and left the bad. Not even Bilbo's adventure had been all goody-goody, and the old hobbit had lamented the fact himself.
Bilbo . . . .
"What's the life after death, do you think, Sam?" he whispered, croaking from both the ongoing thirst and the ashes exhaled by the volcano above them.
"Never thought of it, Master Frodo," the voice as beloved as life itself to him answered in the same manner, and he could detect a faint smile in it. "I reckon it's good. But I'll take anything now. Even just a bit of rest will do."
The owner of the voice shifted closer to him, and he reached out a hand to grasp at the other's sleeve. Homespun wool, coarse but well-cared-for, just as Sam's personality himself sometimes to him. It reminded him of the Shire also, somehow, while he had not been able to recall his homeland all during the hellish trip across the Black Land.
"Do you miss the Shire?"
He felt foolish and weak asking that; but now, so near to the end, he must know that he was not alone missing his unreachable homeland.
"Yes," Sam said, and Frodo smiled.
"I wonder what they'll think of us after this," he confessed, ashamed. "I failed."
"You won, Master Frodo. You won in the end, and it's all that matters," Sam objected – faithful Sam, courageous Sam, beloved Sam, as simple and honest as the bit of clothing he was now clutching in his hand.
"You did, Sam. You did," he smiled. "You were so brave and true. I'd be worse without you."
Sam chuckled, then coughed like his old garfer. "Well, we did, Master Frodo," he said. Frodo hummed noncommittally.
The heat was coming even closer. The rumbling was more audible, making his bones tremble in response. And then his world dissolved into shades of red and unbearable heat.
He smiled through it all.