I growled and drew my own sword, walking slower. When I turned the corner, I could see three orcs lined up against the stairs. They roared and rushed for me.

I overtook them rather easily. "This one's for Frodo!" I cried as one fell to the flat of my blade. "For Rosie Cotton!" Another one crumpled against the wall. I threw the last down the stairs. "And that's for Willation!" I called after him. Sting had not yet faded; I raced up the tower.

As I approached the uppermost roof, I heard the orc from earlier, the one that had said he would torture Frodo. A growl rose in my throat. "Stop your squealin', you miserable rat! I'm going to bleed you, like a stuck pig!"

I lifted both swords above me and brought the flats banging down on his head. His eyes rolled as he slacked to the floor. "Not if I get you first," I muttered at him.

"Sev!" Frodo cried. He had been tied at the wrists with a thick cord. His bare glimmer of a smile—well, the mere sight of his face moving and alive—I couldn't help myself. I knelt down next to him, grabbed the back of his head, and laid the front of it on my shoulder. The swords clattered away. I did not need them, but I needed my hand. My fingers caught his neck, holding his head as closely as I could. His pulse thrummed under my hands, chilling me: he was alive. I kissed his forehead, the tip of his nose, and his cheek before I held it again.

"You were dead," I managed, tears flooding my eyes. I closed them; I had him back.

"Sev," Frodo managed, swallowing. "I'm so sorry, Sev."

"Nothing to it," I said gently. I pulled away and rubbed his hair back repeatedly. I couldn't have his features, his eyes, enough. My hands cupped his face. "I'm just so glad you're alive."

He nodded, dazed, as I pulled out my knife and sliced through his bonds. Then my eyes widened. The stab of the Morgul blade, and a small circle of yellow where Shelob had attacked him. His wounds . . . they looked awful.

I stepped back, gaping. "Frodo . . . !" Then my ears flattened. "The Mithril!"

"That doesn't matter," Frodo said urgently after shaking his head. He'd been watching me distantly but now shook out of it. He clambered to his knees. "They have it, Sev," he said, voice full of pain. "They took the Ring!"

I paused, blinking once or twice. I hemmed and hawed for a second. I wanted to take it to Mount Doom myself, spare Frodo that last stretch of pain and weight. But the look on his face . . . the despair, the thought that he had failed . . .

"My apologies, Frodo, but they haven't," I said slowly. Apparently I let his opinion win out over mine. As I did in situations like these. His expression darkened, fear replacing despair.

I lifted the Ring from beneath my cloak, where it had slipped back. I winced at the sting of the scar so far up my neck that I couldn't even see it. Frodo glanced up at me, not staring at the Ring as I had thought he would.

"I thought I'd-," I choked a little. "I thought I'd lost you. So I took it. I could finish it if you-,"

"Sev," he insisted. "Sev, give me the Ring."

My eyes widened. "Frodo . . ."

He shook his head. "Sev, it'll burn you if you keep it. Give me the Ring."

I swallowed, holding out the Ring. I knelt down very carefully, and he bent his head forward a little anxiously. I lowered the Ring over his head. My fingers brushed his neck as I backed away, and I winced when I saw a strip of raw skin where the Ring's chain hung. Frodo looked back up at me, eyebrows drawn together. "Sev, please understand. If you carry it, it will kill you."

He struggled to stand, and I grabbed his hands, pulling him to his feet. Then I glanced around. "We'd better find some armor. You can't go through Mordor in naught but permeable." I slipped the pack from my shoulders and tossed a white shirt to him, then ducked back to find armor.

I found two sets of small, almost hobbit-sized orc armor. They were sinister and heavy, but it was all we could do to stay alive and discrete. As I came back up the stairs laden with armor, I turned to Frodo.

"All right, so they're really heavy and a little big, but I think-,"

I was caught off guard by Frodo's smile. He looked far more pleasant, now that I couldn't see any scars. He looked at me longingly, then wrapped his arms hard around me. Taken aback, I dropped the armor and slowly hugged him as well.

"You came for me," he said.

I nodded and kissed his cheek again. I could never get enough of that, however dark the peril and ridiculous my need. "Of course I did. I never wanted to leave you."

"And you didn't take the Ring to the mountain."

I paused. "No. Galadriel said this yesterday. This task was appointed to you. Even if I wanted to find a way, I couldn't."

Frodo pulled back and looked up at me. "So you were there."

I nodded. The silence was overwhelming for me, but that shimmer in his eyes said he wanted it, so I let it go. As if he loved me, even at a time like this. We simply didn't have time, and he didn't have the mental strength for it, not now.

I pulled a breastplate and assorted other armor pieces from my pile and handed them to Frodo, as well as a helmet with a curved beak. "Here. These will help, hopefully."

He nodded and accepted the armor. I slipped my own on, as well as a rusting helmet with a sharp mouthpiece that stretched farther down than my neck. I tsked, and the sound rebounded on the metal walls of the wide helmet.

"Smells like something died in here." I crinkled my nose and glanced at Frodo. My eyes widened.

His eyes were huge inside the helmet. Isolated they looked unnaturally large and beautiful, just as I'd always thought them to be. He glanced at me curiously.

I swallowed and shook my head hard. So much for orc armor; it only made him more attractive in one way or another. "We'd better be off, then. We don't have too far to go." I offered Frodo a hand, and he took it. I led him down the stairs and out the other door of the tower.

When we got outside, the pains attacked . . . hard.

As I staggered against the wall, Frodo surveyed the land of Mordor. "There are so many of them," he said somewhat hopelessly. When my vision cleared, I looked too. There were miles and miles of torches, thick layers of orcs that spanned the entire distance. In the center of Mordor stood Barad-Dur. The Eye cast a spotlight on the ground, searching the world for the Ring Frodo carried; I growled. Mount Doom rose over the landscape, shedding red-orange lava and plumes of heavy, gray smoke.

"Mordor," I said sarcastically. "Yay, we made it!"

"We'll never get through unseen," Frodo continued, his voice growing worried. "Sev, I don't know how we'll do it."

I glanced at him. "Let's just get down the hill first. Then we can be depressed about the fact that we are not two hobbits in a big land, or two hobbits in a little land, but a hobbit and an anti-creature in a frying pan."

Frodo eyed me carefully. "Indeed?"

I held up my hands. "If you'd rather be frivolous getting down there, that's all fine with me, but you look like you want to be depressed." Then I heard heavy crunches of armor and looked up. The waves of the orc torches had begun to shift away, to the West.

"Frodo! They're moving!"

"Come on, then," Frodo said quietly, sliding down the rocks of the hill. We clambered down, and by the time we slipped into the base, there were orcs coming. I could hear them, and I could feel Frodo's sword glowing. The pains stabbed a little; something about Frodo had been newly wounded.

I quickly scanned for a way out. I leaped across the small walkway and glanced over. "Frodo, we can-," Then I paused. The drop was at least fifty feet. I backed away and turned to him. "We can do nothing."

"Nothing to stay out of sight," Frodo said. He burrowed into the side of the wall and sat down, trying to look ambivalent. I did the same, knowing all it could do was make us one with the orcs for a minute.

They came clanking and crunching around the bend a few minutes later. Some were carrying torches, and they were all in a hurry. At the rate my pains were begging me to drain Frodo of his wounds, he wasn't going to be able to keep up with them. I hoped they would leave us alone, but didn't anticipate it. They were even obsessed with checking and prodding the dead, apparently. I growled at the memory, watching that dirty orc poking at Frodo.

Then a shouting, severe orc came into view, snapping a whip. Then he spotted us. "Get moving, rats!" he snapped, cracking the whip across my shoulders. "We're going to the front lines! Get up!" I winced, trying to ignore the spread of my blood to calm the welt above. I grabbed Frodo and, as the leader continued to whip me into line, threw Frodo into the group and followed him in. I looped his arm around my shoulder and half carried him into the orc camp.

"Sev, are you all right?" Frodo gasped, his eyes drifting open and shut. I nodded quickly.

"I'm fine. We have to get out of here."

Suddenly the orcs ground to a halt. The head came out. "Inspection!" he called. Then I saw a gruff, huge orc, throwing some colleagues aside. I stared at him, which was a huge mistake. I quickly threw my gaze to Frodo when he said,

"Sev . . . it's so heavy . . ."

I looked down. His neck was now lined with blood underneath the Ring's chain. I gasped. It hurt me carrying the thing, but it was still doing so much to him. I fingered the ring of dried blood at my neck, begging an idea to present itself.

Then the orc inspector spotted me again when I looked back up to him. He roared and forced his way through the army toward us.

I stammered. "Frodo! Frodo, what do I do?"

"Hit me, Sev," he muttered.

My eyes widened. "Frodo, I'm not going to hit you."

"Hit me," he insisted. "Start fighting!"

I weakly kneed him in the stomach and feigned anger, but it was not satisfactory for him, and didn't stir the other orcs.

"No, Sev," he said. "Harder. As hard as you can."

My eyes squeezed shut as yells escaped me, and my knee coursed into Frodo's stomach. Tears burned as they streaked down my face; I didn't want to hurt him. I could feel the pains growing as it added to the weight he had to carry. Luckily enough, on contact I healed what I broke. Besides, once in a while he attempted to fight back, which surprised me for sake of the strength it took, but it helped to have an excuse not to do anything.

"Now, Sev!" Frodo said as the commotion stirred and the whip came out. I grabbed him and dragged him to the nearest tent as the inspector came close to us. He roared for everyone to get back in line, and the orcs began moving once more. When we ducked inside, I put both hands on Frodo's shoulders and sat him on the ground to rest.

"Are you all right?" I asked, choking back another sob.

He nodded, gasping. I shook my head again and again, stroking a hand across his helmet. "No. Stay here for a minute; you need to rest just a little."

He shook his head. "We have to keep moving, Sev. You did well, and I'm fine," he insisted, standing. I looped his arm around my shoulder again, and we slipped out the other side of the tent, making our way across the rocks towards Mount Doom.

Soon, though, holding all that armor as well as Frodo became too heavy. I tried to contain it as long as possible, but Frodo could sense it, and accordingly pulled back. There was nothing left in me; I tried to beg him to come back, that he couldn't carry himself on his own, but I had lost too much blood, most of it to the Ring. I was nigh dead now, and my only need was to see Frodo throw the Ring into the Cracks of Doom. Then I could lay down and rest, or die if need be.

We stumbled across the stones. Frodo quickly fell behind. I watched him, wondering if I should wait for him or go to him, try to carry him a little again. Then, when I looked back once more, he stumbled and collapsed to the ground.

As I limped to his side, he grabbed his helmet and pulled it off. He was breathing hard. "It's such a weight to carry," he said, voice growing raspy.

I pulled off one glove and rubbed against his head, glancing behind me at the volcano. "Even the most direct route is far," I said mournfully. "I think we should get rid of anything we aren't sure to need."

Frodo looked up at me and tried to stand, but I kept him down.

"Rest a moment first," I said.

He shook his head. "We have to keep moving, Sev." As if to prove his point, he lifted me onto my feet, and we helped each other over to the slope overlooking a deep pit. We threw our armor and most everything else but the water inside.

Then I insisted he rest again, and he finally complied. We picked our way against a ledge, out of the view of the Great Eye, and I laid Frodo down, then laid myself down a small space away. He rolled across the rocks and sidled up next to me, quickly falling half conscious. I slipped an arm around his shoulders, and hunched over a little. Then a flash of light caught my eye, and I looked up.

A star, Earendil, cut with a gleam through the black clouds of Mordor.

"Frodo," I whispered. His eyes drifted open, and I lifted the hair away from his face. "Light," I said. "Something so beautiful and bright no darkness can completely take it away." I stared down into his eyes. They, too, were covered with the clouds of Mordor, but when my hand rested on his face, they cleared for a moment, shimmering. They were huge and full of light.

Unlike me. My life was a dark story, but for those two big stars in them. Those two glimmers of hope that Mordor was trying to block out. But I could still see them. There was still hope for him. If I died with my darkness, I would ensure his beautiful light lived on.

I slowly and deeply kissed his forehead. When I backed away, his eyes were barely open. He probably hadn't even known what I'd done. He looked so tired; I stroked his cheek, glaring bitterly at the Ring.

"Sev," he said.

"Hmm?"

Then he rolled to a sitting position, lowered my face with both hands about it, and pressed his lips to my forehead as well before laying against my shoulder again. I wondered if he thought he'd been hallucinating when I'd done it. "It's almost over," he said finally.

I nodded and stood. He looked up, trying to stand as well. I offered both hands, and when he accepted them I lifted him to his feet. He walked just behind me, and we stumbled across more ground.

We rested again about twenty minutes later, against a pair of rocks. Frodo desperately grabbed for the waterskin he'd brought, and as he righted it vertically, I noticed nothing came out. He set it down, eyes closed, chest heaving.

"Here," I said. "Take mine. There's a little left."

He glanced up at me after he'd finished mine. "Will there be enough to get back?"

I paused. "I don't know that we'll need much to get back," I said. I wouldn't need any; I wouldn't be alive, I assumed. Frodo cocked his head.

"Sev?"

"Frodo, I told you I would do everything I could to get you back home," I said. "And stealing your resources isn't going to help any. I'm wasting away as it is. I'm dying, and there's nothing for it." I swallowed.

Frodo stood slowly. "Sev, you can't leave me."

"I'll get you out of Mordor first, I promise," I said, laying a hand on his shoulder. We were both weak; I tried not to lean on it. He felt so strong and yet fragile under my hand. The journey had broken him, but he carried on with an endurance none of us had. I brought him up to my level and we continued.

As we walked, I felt a sense of heat on me . . . something sinister I didn't recognize. My blood boiled, and the Ring as it jolted around Frodo's neck came to rest on my shoulder. It seared through my sleeve and into my flesh, and I fell to the ground.

When I looked up, the Eye was turning to Frodo. I grabbed his leg.

"Frodo, get down!"

Frodo collapsed to the ground, rolling behind a pile of rock. His eyes were wide, and just clamping a hand about his wrist, I could feel his heart surging.

The Eye had seen him, I thought. His eyes were wide, and he was grabbing at the Ring. The Eye did not pass from our area for a long time, but soon fixed back on the war, wherever that happened to be.

I put my hands about Frodo's waist and lifted him to his feet. We were near the slope of the mountain now, and everything had suddenly become steep. I stumbled on the sharp rocks, eventually collapsing to my hands and knees. My blood drained to thousands of small patches on my skin, and I laid there, unable to move.

Somewhere behind me Frodo collapsed as well.