Soon Sev's breathing became labored. Frodo had been sagging onto her, the weight of the Ring slowly beating him down. The armor hindered as well, but wasn't remotely as difficult to carry. He realized she might be able to feel the weight of both. Only partially afraid of what she would do to him for not taking full advantage of his help, he released her and stepped back.

She looked like protesting. She turned back to him, eyes flicking open and shut. She halted, stumbling onto the ground. Frodo felt guilt and sorrow prick him; he'd made her carry him this far. She could stop here; he just had to make it to Mount Doom, drop the Ring in. Then they would be finished with this.

Sev's eyes flicked back to him periodically. She rested sometimes, to let him catch up and probably to work up her strength so she could carry him when he finally did. But he didn't want her to carry him again, not if it cost her so much. So he stopped when she did, and eventually all she could do was look back.

Finally Frodo's feet were so sore, his armor so crushing, his heart so exhausted, and the Ring so menacingly heavy that he collapsed. The helmet was cutting off his breathing, and so he grabbed the beak of it with one hand and tore it off, inhaling and exhaling heavily. Sev limped to him, kneeling right in front of him.

"It's such a weight to carry," he rasped.

Sev pulled off one of her gloves, caressing his head with one hand. His eyes slid closed; he didn't want to move. He rested his chin on a nearby rock.

"Even the most direct route is far," she muttered. "I think we ought to get rid of anything we don't need."

Frodo turned to stand, but Sev set him back down, insisting that he rest. He told her they had to keep going. For the second time since they'd entered Mordor, that exact phrase had worked.

Apparently it was the magic phrase.

This time, though, he stood and lifted her to her feet. They settled on each other as one got tired, progressing slowly and painfully up a nearby hill. Sev threw her armor and pack, everything but her waterskin. Frodo did the same, also retaining the journal within his white shirt.

Sev persisted in letting Frodo rest. Finally he submitted, and the moment he sat down, he realized he never wanted to stand, let alone walk across Mordor, again. His legs ached, his feet were numb with the blistering against stones of Mordor. Sev stepped a small distance away, leaning against the ledge of rock. Frodo needed solace, and so he dragged himself across the rocks to her side.

He could feel her arm around his shoulders, her fingers gently probing his upper arm as she exhaustedly squeezed him to her side.

Then her voice softly stepped through what little consciousness remained.

"Frodo," she said. His eyes drifted open, and Sev gently lifted the hair from his face, fingering it across to the sides. "Light." He glanced up. He saw the star behind her, cutting through the clouds, but then all he could stare at were her eyes as they flickered hopefully from the star to his face, then back again. "Something so beautiful and bright no darkness can completely take it away." She turned to him, resting her hand on his cheek. Something pricked her visage then, and she kissed his forehead deeply. He settled beneath it. The warmth fought back the Ring for a still, numb moment.

A thousand thoughts raced through his mind in a few seconds. The first accumulated to the fact that they were both dying, her probably more physically than himself. The second became, "I have to express something." The third . . . he wanted to kiss her, tell her he loved her. But he couldn't.

"Sev?" he said, ready and prepared to do it.

But in that moment, when she turned to him expecting a statement . . .

He couldn't do it.

He kissed her forehead, as she had done for him, and the chills raced through him again. "It's almost over," was all he said. Sev nodded, exhausted, and stood. She offered her hands, and he took them. She brought him to his feet, and they continued.

It was not long before Frodo had to rest again, and apparently Sev did too. He sat against the rock . . . only to find that his waterskin was empty. Sev offered him hers. "There's a little left," she said.

There certainly was; it cooled Frodo's throat as it raced down. Then he began to process. "Will there be enough to get back?"

Sev shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "I don't know that we'll need much to get back."

He was afraid she would say that. "Sev?"

"Frodo, I told you I would do everything I could to get you back home," she said, biting her lip. "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." She swallowed.

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

"I'll get you out of Mordor first, I promise," she said, laying a hand on his shoulder. She wavered; it felt like she wanted to lean on him, but couldn't find the inner power to do it. He didn't need her to get him out of Mordor. He needed her to be home with him. She pulled him up onto the next level of rock, and they continued.

As they progressed, Frodo could feel the Eye scanning Mordor very thoroughly. Then suddenly, as he walked, the Ring flew up from its hanging by his neck, catching Sev in the shoulder. She collapsed, and Frodo turned back.

Then he felt the Eye coming to him.

"Frodo, get down!" Sev cried, grabbing his ankle. He dropped immediately behind a pile of rock. The Eye had seared through him, catching the glint of the Ring for only a hint of a moment. But soon it moved on.

Sev grabbed his wrist, and his heart shoved against the pressure of her fingers. It was a matter of moments before Sev stood, approaching him. She grabbed his waist with both hands. Her fingers were long and powerful for fingers, and she strained him to his feet. They approached Mount Doom itself, and could have walked up the slope in minutes at the pace they had gone through Gondor. But now it seemed impossible.

Sharp rocks sliced against their skin, and eventually Sev crashed to the ground ahead of Frodo. The hope in him collapsed; he fell, too.

Mount Doom rumbled agonizingly and mockingly above them. Sev did not move. He saw black blood dotting in cuts along every bit of exposed skin of her. He had to finish this. For the Shire. For Gandalf.

For Sev.

*He dug his fingers into the mountainside, grabbing his way up handful by handful of dirt and stone. But soon even his arms tired, and he broke down right a small distance ahead of Sev. She strained right up next to him. Her fingers settled against his neck, touching the scar. He felt the flesh begin to mend itself beneath her touch. A shame that had to be addicting; it would have been helpful for him, to have her mend all of his wounds.

Sev scraped up the mountainside to him, grabbing his limp form with one arm. She turned him over and brought him up into her arms, his shoulder resting in the crook of one. The other wrapped around his front, then restlessly lifted its hand to his face.

"Remember the Shire, Frodo?" She sounded like breaking; her fingers pushed his hair back, stroking repeatedly. He fell to the rhythm of it, to the gentle warmth combating the scalding heat of Mordor. "It'll be spring about now. They'll be planting the barley in the fields, and the orchards will be in blossom." He could almost see it. Almost. But it was marred by a fiery shadow, the Eye trying to find the Ring. Sev fought the Ring . . . yet again. "They'll be having the first of strawberries with cream." But she didn't like strawberries, or cream. "Do you remember the taste of strawberries, Frodo?"

Frodo's eyes met hers. Tears flooded them, trickling down. He wanted to finger them away, but his arm would not move. "No, Sev," he said finally. "I can't recall the taste of food . . . the sound of water . . ." Her lips brushed his forehead. "Nor the touch of grass . . . running about after dark . . ."

The tears continued, and her eyes remained closed.~

Then Sauron entered Frodo's mind. "Now all I can feel is him . . .! He is watching me, and I can see him . . . with my waking eyes!" The Eye hissed at him, and the Ring pulled. He strove with everything he had not to break, not to convulse, not to cower.

Sev's eyes flickered open, immediately narrowed. "Then let us be rid of it!" Her expression grew hopeful, sorrowful, dark . . . everything. "Come on, Frodo. I can't carry it for you, and I'm pretty sure I can't carry you, but I can certainly try!"

Frodo wanted to protest. He couldn't even force words out, much less let them materialize in his head. She grabbed both of his wrists, launching him over her back. Her pulse raced, and she pushed forward with intense force.

They covered ground faster with just her walking; Frodo wondered how she managed it, but dared not make assumptions, or ask. Soon she called back to him that they were almost there. He breathed a sigh of relief; he could drop the Ring in. And they had both survived thus far. They could make it out of here.

Then he heard, "Tricksy hobbitses." Gollum's spindly form leaped onto his back, dragging him from off of Sev. He collided hard with the ground, and rolled with Gollum down the mountain.

"Sev!" he called out desperately. Gollum grappled for the Ring, finally shoving his hands against Frodo's throat. Frodo strained to keep air coming, but it would not force past Gollum's fingers.

"You swore on the Precious!" he insisted. "Smeagol promised!"

There was no Smeagol left within the creature before him, he realized. Gollum cocked his head. "Smeagol lied."

Finally Gollum wrenched away with a screech. Sev grabbed him, dragging him away from Frodo until he could stand. "Run, Frodo, just get out of here!" she called. He raced up the mountainside and was halfway up when he heard Sev cry out, agonized. He turned back, but she had vanished. Soon she stood, and Gollum followed, his nose bleeding. Gollum pursued her, but she pulled out her sword.

Frodo raced the rest of the way up the mountainside, into the Crack of Doom. Smoke and fire surrounded him, and Mount Doom rumbled in his ears. Soon he heard Sev behind him. So she was all right.

"Frodo!" she called out. "Frodo—!"

Frodo caught her by the shoulders, and immediately she began to cough. He grabbed her harder.

"Are you all right?" he asked. He didn't know if Gollum had hurt her. He checked her quickly, but she shrugged it off.

"Where's the Ring?" she asked.

Frodo nodded, turning. He raced to the end of the precipice and pulled the Ring from his neck, moving to drop it in. Then he paused. He settled the chain in his hand, staring at the gold. It was such a sweet, precious thing. What harm could it do?

It's done more harm than anything else in your life! The Shire! Sev! Gandalf! Sam—

The voice within him was cut off. The Ring. It was beautiful, it was small, it was relatively insignificant. It belonged to him. Why shouldn't he keep it? Now that he stood here, he didn't want to destroy it.

It had become a part of him.

It controlled him now.

"What are you waiting for?!" Sev's voice was numb against his ears. "Just let it go!"

Frodo turned back, glowering. She wanted him to get rid of it. He'd get rid of her first.

"Frodo, no!" she cried. "Frodo, please, I'm begging you!"

"The Ring is mine," he insisted. He snapped it from its chain. An overwhelming stimulation flowed through his arm as he slipped the Ring over his finger, and he faded from sight.

"No!" Sev leaned forward, trying to find him, but was quickly struck down. Frodo turned to watch the lava. Perhaps she was of no concern.

Then something leaped on him. He fought it, trying to wrench away, but the spindly thing grappled with him, finally grabbing his hand. He more cried out at the loss of the Ring than at the loss of his finger, at the pain that followed. He collapsed to his knees, grabbing his hand. He stared at his finger where the Ring had been—and then realized it had not yet been destroyed.

"Leave him alone!" Sev shouted behind him, but she collapsed. Frodo's head cleared about then, and he understood with a sickening dread what he had just done. His eyes widened, and he stood despite the throbbing pain in his hand. His stomach knotted at the sight of the remains of his finger.

He glanced back at Sev, but she nodded at Gollum, exhausted. Frodo had to finish this alone; Sev was hurt and could not move. "Smeagol, get rid of it!" he called out desperately. "Smeagol, throw it in! For both our sakes, let it go!"

The creature would not listen. So Frodo reached forward, grabbing for the Ring. He had to destroy it before he fell prey again. Gollum hissed, pulling back on it. Determination flared, Frodo fought, for all of Middle Earth and everything he cared for. Finally, it slipped into his fingers, and Gollum knocked against him, throwing both over the chasm. Frodo grabbed a jutting corner of the cliff's side; Gollum was not so lucky, and Frodo's eyes sealed closed as he imagined Gollum. But there were no screams. The loss of one on behalf of the Ring. At least there would be no more.