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"Your eyes are the windows to your soul… Keep them from the Light and all you and your soul will know is darkness…"Frodo was running. He could not see where he was going for his eyes were blindfolded and no light was able to come in, but he did nothing about it. Great pain, a mixture of fear, anger, and sorrow engulfed his mind, leaving him in a panic. A roaring sound as that of a raging river could be heard in the distance, echoing ominously.
Tripping over rock and root, Frodo stumbled forward, not knowing or caring where he was going. A damp earthy smell floated heavily on the air. The only noise was that of the deafening torrent and his own footfall. With a sudden lurch, he fell onto the cold leaf covered ground. He didn't try to stand up again, but rather he stayed there, an icy pain gripping at his body.
Then Frodo heard the sound of slow steady footsteps. They came closer and closer until they stopped right beside him. He heard the rustle of clothing as he felt someone kneel in close to him. He felt the blindfold being untied and removed from his face. Now that his eyes were free, he was able to see his surroundings. Grey weathered trees with long twisted branches stood as silent sentinels, their bare limbs covered with nothing but a few sickly leaves. The sky hung low and overcast, threatening to burst with rain at any moment. He still heard the river but couldn't see it anywhere.
Frodo turned over to see who was next to him. It was Sam. His face was streaming with tears. His fist was tightly clenched about the blindfold. Frodo stared at Sam for a moment, noticing that he looked somewhat older, like a full-grown hobbit. It seemed like he was trying to say something, but before he could, Frodo furiously tore the blindfold from his grasp. Sam was very distraught from this and watched painfully as Frodo tied the cloth back onto his head. He stood up and darted off into the forest again.
Frodo ran faster this time. The din of the river grew louder and closer with every step. Soon he felt the spray on his face. He then stopped to stand at the river's edge. There were voices, tortured voices, lost within the roar of the water. He strained to hear what they were saying. They were saying something, but what?
Were they warning him away or calling him in?
Slowly, he began to step into the shallows. There the pull of the water was not so great and the foam swirled around his ankles. The voices rang more clearly and he heard words, clear crying words. His eyes widened with shock. He finally realized what was happening, but it was too late. He felt like he was being dragged into the rapids, but with or against his will he did not know. Then he was swept away in the powerful current. Quickly he grew tired of resisting the violent flow and he sank into the murky depths of the river, slowly giving into the darkness until he could feel nor breathe anymore.
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