I don't own any of these folks so don't tell me to not use them.
Holding Water in your Hands
Chapter 1: Don't Let Me Die
Passing between two realms. Life and Death. So closely intertwined, yet so different. I am dying. Cut by a sword of the enemy. Knocked down by the evil that was fought here.
Life is precious. And it's slipping away, like holding water in your hands, it will slowly slip from your grasp, and then, when you least expect it, it's gone. I cannot allow myself to be upset. That would be a waste of energy. That precious energy that must last.
Please let the others find me here. Let them heal the deepest of wounds. Not just from sword, but from the other evil vices. The words. The stinging, painful words. Let me go back and fix everything... everything... So many things gone wrong, and now... now it's too late. I'm dying.
Just breath. I'm pulled into darkness again. The fear. Don't let it drive me into insanity. I'm losing... losing the horrible, endless battle against the Fates. Let it stop. I can't die now. I'm losing... losing... I can't think straight, but then, the light. I'm not dead... not just yet. I can think again... and feel... Feel the pain from the sword.
It hurts. It hurts so much. Don't give up on me. Help me live. The ladder of illness and health... so easy to fall down into bad health... and so hard to climb back up. Help me climb back up, help me be healed.
Don't let me die. I can change... I can change... I'm dying... The water won't stay in these feeble hands for long...
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"Over here!" a man with shoulder length brown hair called out to his companion.
"You find something, Aragorn?" came the answer.
"He's barely breathing, but he's alive," the first man said, bending over the hurt man. His hair was damp from perspiration. It was humid. "It's him, it's Frodo," he sounded tired, but peaceful.
"How do you know that he's the one we've been looking for?" the second man replied. He had long blond hair.
"Legolas, help me get him onto Anvil's back," Anvil was a large chestnut horse. His muscular legs and neck were a beautiful sight to a horseman. He was beautiful, a work horse, but none the less, beautiful.
"How do you know he's the one?" Legolas repeated as he carefully draped the hurt hobbit over the flank of the horse.
"Take a look at this." Aragorn held out a necklace. On the end, a charm was dangling. Upon closer inspection, Legolas realized it was a ring. A gold ring with writing on the inside.
Legolas reached out to touch the expensive, well known, ring. He felt the smooth ring against his palm. It was amazing. This was the man they had searched for so long. Aragorn shoved the ring into his saddlebag and they were on their way back to the city.
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Gandalf reached out to congratulate Aragorn and Legolas. They both shook his hands.
"You two should go find Sam. We need him," said Gandalf. "Oh... and where, might I ask, is Gimley?"
"Gimley is currently with Sam... they were kidnapped, most likely dead already," Legolas said grimly.
"Ahhhh, I see," said Gandalf slowly. He looked worried. He knew that Smeegle would try only to save Frodo. Or at least steal the ring from him.