March 25th

The Cracks of Mount Doom

The Ringbearer gazed silently down into the ever increasing fury of the sea of lava. Now that his Purpose
had been fulfilled he permitted himself a moment to contemplate the odd symmetry of it all.

Fire was a force of both creation and destruction. And the Sammath Naur, was truly a place of beginnings
and endings. Volcanoes and deep crevices were windows into the heart of the earth; Aulë's Great Forge,
the Dwarf, Gimli had called it once. It had been from the Great Forge that the third greatest of the Valar
had brought forth the lands of Arda so many ages ago.

And it had been here, in this particular forge, the Chamber of Fire, that Aulë's greatest servant had
crafted his greatest and darkest creation. It had been here that the One Ring had been made…and unmade.

The Ring had been destroyed. The Quest was fulfilled.

Almost.

There was one final task to perform.

One last loose end to tidy up.

He didn't have much time; the entire mountain was breaking apart. The quakes were becoming more severe
by the moment, the fires of Orodruin were rising rapidly, spewing showers of rock and flame. He would be
consumed if he lingered here.

But no.

No, this had to be done correctly.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small skinning knife. The same knife that had performed a fateful deed,
two days from Imladris. The same knife that had claimed two lives and left behind two corpses.

One corpse had been perfectly ordinary, save for a cursed Morgul shard that had worked its way to the heart...

And a deep slice on the neck from ear to ear.

The other corpse had not been so ordinary; it didn't have a mark on it, but it had been as dead as the first.

Still that hadn't been what was most unusual. The most unusual thing about it had been the fact that even
though it was as dead as the other; it had gone on twitching…for a while.

It was now time to put an end to it.

It was not wise to leave loose ends. Look at what happened when the Valar banished Morgoth
to the Void, but left his servant, Sauron, running loose in Middle Earth.

Everything that had happened since; every dark deed that Sauron had committed. Every single
bit of suffering he had caused…had all been as much the Powers' fault as the fallen Maia's.

No doubt, the Valar could give their excuses. But whatever Their motives had been, it made no difference
to the Ringbearer one way or the other. They knew what They had done and They would just have to live with it.

They knew what They had done. And he knew what he had done. And still needed to do.

He studied the blade with calm interest. Yes, things had indeed come full circle. One corpse

had been disposed of in Imladris; it was now time to bury the other.

The ground quaked ever more violently, nearly throwing him off his feet. The flames and smoke
were increasing by the moment. A shower of rock narrowly missed him. He had to be quick.

He stepped closer to the edge and lifted the blade to his throat.

"No!"

A desperate cry entered the Chamber

"Samwise, stop!"

It was Gandalf.

Gandalf was alive.

Samwise Gamgee would have spun around, overcome with shock, disbelief and joy.

But he was not that person. And all he felt was a twinge of annoyance at the interruption.

He wasn't really surprised that Gandalf had somehow survived. During his time in Imladris
he had studied, listened and pressed for every scrap of information that held relevancy to his purpose.

In the process he had learned quite a few things about Gandalf and the rest of Istari.
He had learned things and pieced together others. And he knew that if anyone could have
survived a fight with a Balrog, it would have been Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey. Gandalf the Wizard.

Gandalf the Maia.

"I'm not surprised that you're here, Gandalf," the Ringbearer shouted over the roar of the volcano.
"You have a way of not coming when you're needed and then showing yourself when you're not wanted.
I assume that your eagle friend, Gwaihir, is at your beck and call again?"

"Samwise…" the Wizard began again.

The Ringbearer turned around, but didn't lower the knife.

Gandalf was standing behind him at the entrance of the Chamber; clad in white, more powerful
in appearance, but looking decades older, face heavily lined with grief and guilt.

"Your memory's failing, Gandalf," the Ringbearer said calmly. "I've told you time and again,
that that's not my name."

The Wizard stepped closer, "It is your name!" he said earnestly. "It's who you are!
You don't have to do this!"

"I don't have to do this?" Although his face remained expressionless, the Ringbearer
couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of something vaguely approaching amusement.

"Not only has your memory failed, so has your wisdom, apparently. Yours, and the rest
of the so-called Wise. You should have known from the beginning that this was inevitable.
You should have known that the moment Frodo's life ended the way it did, my existence
could have only one possible outcome."

He paused and looked back downward into the Crack. "You should have known from the start
that my path could only lead….to this."

The Hobbit shrugged slightly. "Not that I wanted any of you to realize it sooner;
I did my best to make sure that none of you suspected. I had no interest in listening to childish
hysterics and useless platitudes."

He spoke thoughtfully, almost to himself. "It's interesting how if one says certain things,
but leaves out a few details, one can make others imagine whatever they want. And if one
has a certain... focus...it's difficult, but not impossible to keep even Elf Lords and Wizards,
from poking around in one's head."

"Samwise, don't do this!" Gandalf bellowed. "This isn't what Frodo would have wanted!"

"I'm well aware of that, Gandalf. But this isn't about what Frodo would have wanted;
this is about what is."

The Hobbit turned around and looked intently at the Wizard. "And since when did what Frodo
want ever mean anything to you? The only thing that Frodo ever wanted was to live out a peaceful
life as a child of the Shire."

His eyes narrowed. "You destroyed all hope of that. Not only did you badger Bilbo into giving Frodo
the Ring, but afterwards you were stupid enough to leave him alone with It."

The Wizard flinched as if he had been stabbed.

The Hobbit went on relentlessly. 'Even if you were too blind to realize earlier that Saruman couldn't
be trusted: the moment you realized or even suspected what it was that Frodo had, you should have
immediately taken him to Rivendell. And you should have taken him there yourself. Not send him
off alone. Then, once he was safe, you could have consulted the rest of your Order all you wanted."

He turned back towards the flames. "You're as much to blame for Frodo's death as Sauron.
His blood stains your hands as much as it did the Dark Lord's."

Tears were coming to the Wizard's eyes; his heart breaking more with every moment. But still he tried
desperately to reach the former gardener.

"Has your memory failed?" he shouted. "You promised Pippin that you wouldn't throw your life away!
You promised all of us! Are you going back on your word?"

The Ringbearer let down his internal mask. After all, his task was done. There was no more need
for pretense. No more need to hide his true nature. And besides, he was partially Gandalf's creation.
Why shouldn't the Istari get a good look at his own handiwork? Why shouldn't he see what his actions
and lack thereof had helped wrought?

Yes. He would show the Wizard what he truly was.

Just as he had shown that fool, Boromir at Amon Hen.

"I already know what you are, Gandalf, or should I say, Olórin. It's only fitting that you learn what I am."

Slowly he turned around again to face the Istari.

The Maia looked into the dead Hobbit's lifeless eyes and gave a soft cry of grief.

"As you can see I'm not breaking any promises," the Ringbearer said softly. "Nor am
I throwing anything away. One can't throw away what they don't have. And one can't
kill something that's already dead."

"Samwise!" Gandalf cried despairingly, "What about your family? What about Rosie?
Are you going to turn your back on all of them? Are you going to throw them away
just so you can join Frodo?"

The Ringbearer's answer chilled the Wizard to the bone.

"I'm not going to join Frodo, Gandalf. I'm never going to join him; he's gone where
I can't follow. And the same goes for Rose Cotton and the Gamgees; I'm never going
to see any of them again…in this life or the next."

The Wizard was slowly shaking his head back and forth in denial. But the Ringbearer went
on relentlessly. "Frodo has gone to the same place that they'll eventually go…to the Halls of the One,
where it's always Light. Even if it were possible for me to still go there I wouldn't."

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Creatures of Darkness don't belong in the Light…
and the Halls of the One are no place for the Damned."

He pressed the knife more tightly against the soft skin of his throat. "There's only one
place for the Damned, old man. And that's the Void."

"Samwise…!" the Maia whispered, tears streaming down his face. "Please…Please come back…
I beg of you…" His voice broke.

The Ringbearer shook his head. "Samwise Gamgee is dead, old man. And the Powers Themselves
couldn't bring him back."

He pressed the knife tighter still and tensed his arm for the final stroke. "All that I'm doing
now is burying his corpse."

In one swift motion the Hobbit slit his throat from ear to ear.

Gandalf cried out and raced forward to catch him. But the Ringbearer, eyes fading,
took a slight step back… and fell downwards into the Crack of Doom.

As he plummeted downwards, the last sight he beheld was that of Gandalf the White atop
the precipice, arms still reached out in a futile effort to save him.

And the last sound he heard before his body struck the lava and darkness claimed him was
the Maia's despairing scream of horror and grief.

Fin