My first Lord of The Rings fic... enjoy!
Together
A desert. Nothing can grow and live there save the foul monsters that call this wasteland home. The ground grinds and bites the soles of my feet. Rock, jagged bits of rock stab, rend, and run red with my blood. A trail of unending torment.
The sky is thick with smoke that chokes my lungs and scrapes my throat with every rattling breath. It would be dark in Mordor save for the fiery glow of our destination, our hell.
The mountain never sleeps, like its master. It sends fire high into the air in its wrath. It looms above us, beating us down with its glare, daring us to keep moving forward, promising misery and death.
But I no longer see it, the mountain, the smoke, the rocks. I no longer see the path beneath my feet or the hand that is always at my side when I fall in my blindness. I see fire. Fire that burns my mind numb. Fire that blinds my eyes dead. Fire that is manifested into an eye. That beats me down to the ground where I am crushed into dust, one with the rocks and the chapped earth.
But that would be too easy. No, the fire in my mind taunts me, and tells me what a fool I am until I go insane. Always searching always present. When in the dark the ring whispers its poison relief in my ears.
It promises to save me from this living hell. To put me on soft grass that does not cut. Gentle trees shifting in a light breeze that does not choke. It will take me away from the mountain of flame and send me home to the Shire to Bag End, where I will wake up from this dream. It promises many things, to make all evil disappear, to give peace to Middle Earth after so many years of darkness and uncertainty. The worst part is I believe it.
In the end I know it is corrupting me. It was inevitable from the very beginning, I knew this all along. I was a fool to think I could destroy the ring, a simple hobbit challenge the forces of Mordor. Boromir was right after all, Sauron will get his ring and I will beg for death before the end.
"Mr. Frodo! Are you alright?"
I am shocked back to my senses after I discover that in my absentmindedness I had stumbled and fallen to the ground. I note a dull stinging along my arm and lift it into my eyesight to inspect any damage. I spy with little interest a shallow cut along my forearm.
"Oh Mr. Frodo, your arms all cut up." Sam steps forward and takes my arm gingerly in his hands. He rips a strip of cloth from his already tattered shirt. Mindful not to tie it too tightly he wound the strip around the offending cut. "Well I wish I had something cleaner to wrap it in and some nice water to clean it out, but both are in short supply I'm afraid. You've got to be more careful Mr. Frodo, next time it could be worst."
His words echo in my thoughts for a moment. "Thank you Sam." I mutter though my voice cracks and dies on my lips.
"'s nothing sir. Just you stay with me. We'll make it through this, together." Sam smiles down at me as he stands and offers his hand.
"Together." I murmur pondering the word before meeting his eyes.
"Yes, Mr. Frodo. Together." He promises. A promise much sweeter than any the ring could contrive.
I take his hand and he pulls me to my feet. We begin again toward Mount Doom, toward perhaps our very destruction. But the mountain no longer seems to stand as tall as it had before. If Sam and I are destine to meet the end there's one thing I can be sure of now. We will meet it together.