The Choice Is Yours
by Randiriel
(Note: This fic has been posted under different pen names before, and has been moved once again due to a change in the type of fics I'm choosing to upload. So if you've seen this story before and plan on busting me for plagiarism, don't bother, cuz you can't really copy your own idea. O_o;;)
Warnings (For lack of a better word): *sigh* I really shouldn't have to mention this, but given the nature of most LOTR fics on fanfiction.net, I think it's necessary. This is not, by any means, a Mary Sue. Nor is it a romance of any kind. So don't let the suggested presence of an original female character turn you off to the whole fic. Trust me on this. Just read a little farther, and you'll see what's really going on.
There are also two lines in the story that are taken from other sources, one from a song, the other from a movie. I don't own them, nor do I claim to. They are only there to enhance the mood. They are marked, and credit is given at the end of the fic.
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Frodo…
That voice. So beautiful.
Your fight is over now, my love…
Yes…she speaks the truth. The words are in my mind, my soul, and the burden I carry grows lighter at the sound.
Poor thing. So long have you suffered…
Indeed, I have suffered a great deal since this quest began, and my pain only increases as time goes on. I had companions once, friends who could help distract me from this torment, and help me control the madness, but now, I have been deserted by all but two. And of these two, it is only her who truly understands.
So many hardships have you endured…
I love Sam dearly, but the depth of my struggle is far beyond his comprehension. I do not begrudge him for his lack of understanding, nor has my appreciation for his continued loyalty decreased. But he cannot be everything I need. And those times when he fails me, I know I can always turn to her.
But now, you may rest.
That voice…
Your job is done.
Her voice is that of a lover, of a killer. Adoring and threatening. She whispers in my ear promises of indescribable pleasure and unmentionable pain. She excites and terrifies me. I hate her as much as I love her. Beautiful. Precious…
Rest now. Surrender your will, and I will take care of everything.
Wait. Precious?
Surrender, Frodo…
"No."
That was close. Too close. It almost had me, wrenched its grip on me so tightly that if I had hesitated only a moment longer, I would not have been able to escape. For a minute there, I lost myself.* I forgot where I was, who I was. Who, or rather, what, really existed behind that beautiful voice. My importance. Curse my weakness! I can't believe I allowed it to twist my mind so thoroughly. I would never give up so easily. Nor would I ever think that way about Sam of my own free will. Imagine, believing that this accursed thing is more important to me than he is! It sickens me.
And yet I wonder…is this terrifying seduction I fight against day by day even within his comprehension? Perhaps I should give in to her, and allow myself to fall into the dementedly loving embrace of her oblivion…
No. I cannot allow myself to think that way. She isn't real. This world is incapable of creating anything so beautiful. No, she is merely a ghost, an illusion, conjured up as my temptation by an unholy alliance of the Ring's magic and my own deepest desires.
Oh, really, Frodo. Surely you think more highly of me than that.
She hears my thoughts, and mocks me for them. I can only hope that she does not sense my fear and desperation as well.
"Demon, get out of my head!"
My, such a temper! I did not know that halflings were capable of such ardor.
"We can be capable of a great many things, when properly provoked."
Was that a threat, or merely an empty comeback? Even I am not sure. I pray that she will have some mercy on me today. I don't have the strength to win this confrontation. The closer I get to Mount Doom, and the end of my journey, the more I weaken. I no longer know if I will be able to hold on…
Indeed. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised; you are, after all, a surprising breed. No creature has ever managed to resist me for as long as you have.
"It is comforting to know that I've managed to impress you."
Dry humor. The only kind I still possess. I wonder what my laughter used to sound like, when I was still capable of it? It has been so long since I have heard anyone laugh, except for the taunting, bell-like sound that she produces, and even that is not true laughter. I am tired of living a life devoid of any pleasure, save for that which is false. I sometimes wonder if death would not be better.
I guarantee that you would find your life to be much more enjoyable if you would simply stop being so stubborn and do as I ask.
"Shut up!"
My first reaction is to recoil from the thought, but I can't help wondering…perhaps she's right. Perhaps this struggle is only causing me unnecessary pain. Perhaps it is useless to resist.
No! Damn my thoughts for wandering that way. She has sensed my indecision, I can tell. Her smugness at this taste of victory I have given her is tangible. Now, she will move in for the kill. May the spirits forgive me. I am doomed.
I don't ask for much…
Her voice is softer now. Gentler. Almost pleading. As though it is she who is at my mercy, and not the other way around.
Just let me rule you. Fear me…love me… do as I say, and I will be your slave.**
That was her final offer. My heart cracks a little, and some of my false love for her becomes real. For I know that, just this once, she is speaking the truth. There are no games, no deceptions, no temptation. This is what she truly is: a creature just as desperate as I. Desperate to return to her creator, her master, the one thing in this world that is not a toy or a tool to her, her love. Desperate for survival. It is not the most tempting or convincing thing she has ever done to me, but it is the most genuine. And it is almost enough to send me over the edge.
Almost.
It takes the last of my strength to say the word:
"No."
She is hurt and enraged. She tore down her defenses and laid the core of her existence bare for me, and still, I turned her away. Perhaps it was a mistake. Perhaps not. My conscience no longer functions well enough to tell. My mind almost pictures tears of fury welling in imaginary eyes.
It's a pity. You were one of my favorites. I was going to be lenient with you, Frodo, and not allow you to be destroyed the way Isildur, Gollum, and Boromir were. But you have chosen to ignore my generosity, and for that you will pay dearly. You thought I was merciless before, but you have no idea what I have in store for you now. Mark my words, you wretched halfling, you will not survive long enough to reach Mount Doom.
Gone. She has vanished, giving me a short reprieve before what I know will be the worst torture yet. The pain her presence gives me has abated, only to be replaced with the pain I feel at her absence. I am so accustomed to both that, even now that I am at the very limit of my endurance, I can't comprehend what relief from the pain would feel like.
I open my eyes, coming out of the delirious, semiconscious state that I seem to be spending more and more time in lately. Even that small action hurts, and the dull light of Mordor's sky is enough to make my eyes burn. Once my vision clears, I look around taking stock of my location. Night is falling, and it appears we have traveled quite a distance from the place my last lucid memory recalls. This battle must have taken quite a bit longer than most. Poor Sam must be worrying himself to death about me by now.
Sure enough, there he is, setting up our pitiful excuse for a campsite and halfheartedly humming to himself. A cheerful tune, but in this forbidding place it may as well be a funeral dirge. Still, it warms my heart to see him stubbornly refusing to fully succumb to the blanket of depression that covers this place. In that, he is much stronger than I.
"Sam…"
My voice is barely above a whisper, but still he hears, and his face lights up with relief that I have finally come out of my trance. God, is it good to see him smile. It almost makes me forget the pain I'm in now, and the pain that she promised will soon come. The cheerful tone of his voice is soothing to me, so much that I stop listening to the words and simply concentrate on the sound of it. He is the only thing keeping me alive now. He is everything to me…I have nothing else left. But still, I came so terribly close to choosing the Ring over him. He doesn't know that, and even if he did, I know that he'd forgive me in a heartbeat, but that does nothing to ease my guilt.
"Mr. Frodo? What's wrong?"
His voice and expression are even more stricken with concern for me than usual. Though he hasn't the slightest idea …in his own way, he understands.
What's this? I'm crying…mourning my own death, perhaps? Tears for the damned, that hiss violently into nothingness on the desiccated ground. This will only make him worry more, and I hate to put him through that pain, but what's the point in fighting off my emotions any longer? Emotion is the only purity that exists in this world, the only life in this dead place. Though my own might be slightly less alive than most, I have to try. I have so much else to fight; I can afford to lose this one battle. And so I collapse, sobbing, into his arms, releasing the despair that I have kept locked away for so long. Because I know he is strong enough to bear it, strong enough to keep me hoping long after all hope should have been lost. Because he understands.
"It's all right, Frodo…we'll make it out of this, you'll see. it's all right…"
No…I'm sorry, Sam, but I'm afraid you're wrong. It's not all right. Nothing will ever be all right again. Maybe…maybe if I can find the strength to overcome this cynicism and bring myself to hope again, maybe we'll have a chance. But no, I'm far too weak, and it can only get worse. Still, I know you have hope enough for both of us. If Middle-earth will have a savior from this darkness, it will be you, Sam, and not I. But I could never desert you now…your hands may be capable, but your heart is innocent, and I couldn't bear to see the Ring destroy that innocence. So I'll try my best to hang on as long as I can.
And we will face destiny, death, and eternity…together…
End.
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* This line is a quote from the song "Karma Police" by Radiohead…
**…And this line is a quote from the movie "Labyrinth," said by David Bowie's character, Jareth. In case you didn't read the warning at the top, I don't own them. So don't sue me.
Author's Notes: Okay, for those of you wondering, "Just what the hell is going on here?" I think an explanation is in order. The "she" Frodo refers to is, of course, his mental perception of, or perhaps even an accurate embodiment of, the Ring's persona. Yes, I made it sentient. In my opinion, at least, the Ring is a character in its own right, and it was in pondering the somewhat ambiguous nature of its interaction with other characters, I came across the idea of seduction. Look closely at the characters the Ring exerts its power over in the books/movie, and it's fairly easy to make the jump from obsession with the Ring to a man's obsession with a beautiful and manipulative woman. Hence the pronoun "she." In earlier drafts of this fic, the Ring actually had a quasi-physical form that appeared in Frodo's mind as a dream or hallucination, but I have since decided the symbolism could stand up on its own.
Well, at any rate, I hope you enjoyed! I plan on continuing this theme with other characters at some point, but what with the schoolwork and all, I'm not sure when I'll get around to it. ^_^