Author's note: Well, I'm sorry this one has taken so long…there aren't words to say how much I regret taking so long. But finals are coming up, and well, you know the story. Have to get good grades if I want to keep my scholarship, yada yada yada… Well, here's Chapter Twenty-Three, and I hope you like it. Thanks, as always, for reading and for all the great reviews – and please review more!
PS: This isn't the end, but it is coming closer. Trust me, I won't leave you hanging.
Where the Shadows Lie
A Tale Of The Ring
"It's wisdom to recognize necessity, when all other courses have been weighed, though as folly it may appear to those who cling to false hope."
Chapter Twenty-Three: Fire
Gandalf stood overlooking the great chasm in the depths of Mount Doom, a small figure of white set against the dark light of evil. The fires burned beneath the precipice on which he stood, sending vapors upward that stung the eyes of his followers, Galadriel and Elrond, making them cough in the red-hot smoke. But the wizard was unbothered by those natural elements; rather, an unnatural focus had descended upon him as he stared into the depths of the fire, his head spinning with possibilities, desires, and revulsion. The Ring burned upon his hand, and it whispered sweetly to him.
Why not? the One asked softly. What have you to lose? They have cast you from your home, from your dreams – why not make this world into what you would have it be?
Gandalf shuddered from the pressure of its lure. Oh, it touched his heart, hit upon his greatest desires. The Ring's whispers hinted at what he feared most, for if he survived its destruction, he would still be an Exile, cut off from his home and unwanted upon Middle-Earth. He would still then be a hapless wanderer, alone and unhomed – except – except the Ring offered something more. The Ring offered him the chance to make Middle-Earth his home. Think of all you could do, it whispered. You could transform this place so that it would rival the West, and then they would see what they have lost. Your greatness would make them regret exiling you.
You would be Gandalf the Great, respected and loved by all. The sweetness of the Ring's call claimed that it was not truly evil, and in the hands of one with a pure heart, it could do good. The One could be used for the right. Its seductive whispers wormed deeper into his soul, anchoring themselves firmly to his heart. They would love you, it continued.
They would fear you.
Awareness jerked into Gandalf's mind like a splash of icy water, and his heart rebelled – but the Ring continued, not heeding his change. You could make them pay for all they have put you through. The power is yours. Their lives are yours –
No! his mind screamed the words, and the Maia thought that his voice echoed them, crying into the rising winds. Only then did he notice how the air whipped around him, how the fumes rose and shielded him from his companions. He glanced over his shoulder, searching for them, but Galadriel and Elrond were hidden from his view in the rising mists. Deep in his soul, the Ring still cried for attention, but with an effort, he forced it away, realizing its plan now…and thanking the Valar that it had gone too far. Temptation had come so close… I must act soon, he realized. Else I will not have the strength.
But why? the Ring cried pitifully. Why destroy something so powerful, so great? Why throw away the chance to change the world, to remake it in your image? But Middle-Earth was not his home; Middle-Earth was not his for the shaping. Mistakes they might make, but mortals were the creatures of this world, and where it went was up to them…even if that path led to ruin. He could not, would not, make their choices for them. But you were sent to protect them, to guide them – should you not do so? Should the Ring not make that task easier? He could not. He would not. Duty called for guidance, not control…
They are weak. They will follow. Someday, the world will thank you for this. You must only say the words…Think the words, and the Ring will be completely yours. Take the Ring once and for all. Take the world. His mind spun with sudden dizziness, and it was hard to remember why he had come to Mount Doom at all. Certainly, he did not wish to destroy this precious thing of beauty that glowed so purely upon his right hand… Surely not. Why would he do such a thing as that?
We are one, the Ring whispered. We are together. Meant to be together. Power is yours. And he felt the sweetness of pure power sweeping through his body, felt it as he had before, but sensed its temptation and the abilities that it would give him…abilities that he had been foolishly afraid to use before. What was the danger of merging with the Ring? Why not do it? He had claimed it; why must he keep fighting it? The Ring was his. His precious. Yes…it whispered. Together. Show them how strong you truly are. Break the foolish bonds that the Valar have placed upon you. You will be greater than Sauron. You always have been, and with the Ring…with the Ring! You will be far, far, greater. Just step away. Step away from the fires…
Suddenly, the view of fumes and fire faded before his eyes and were replaced by a vision of the future. He saw a world, his world, just and kind, one in which all beings were equal, where all had a chance to live in freedom. There they were protected and guided through a land without strife, a land where a true hand steered mortal paths… There was peace. Happiness. Light. And yet there was a current of darkness behind the perfect picture, a surge of hard power that knew no limits and only waited to be released. Peace reigned, yes, but…but not forever. Not for long.
In all light there was darkness.
The perfect vision wavered and was replaced by chaos. Fire. Darkness – and he felt evil, his own evil. Destruction and rage ran rampant; he felt dark satisfaction and white-hot fury. The reasons escaped him, but they mattered not – he felt the ease with which he held lives in his hands; with one close of his fingers, he could crush the light of the world… And, oh the power felt sweet. It was perfect, and it offered him the fulfillment of every Maia's forbidden dream – the dream of complete control and power, the dream of a world to call his own. You can, the Ring whispered, and his wickedly longing soul responded to the call. For the first time, he understood why Sauron, fascinated with power, had reached for it, and having allowed it to corrupt him, could not break free – and then it was too late.
But not for you, the One continued. It's not too late for you. You are stronger than Sauron, it claimed. You can resist. You can remain yourself because you are stronger. Keep the Ring. Remain yourself… And the Ring was right. He was stronger than Sauron, and even if he merged with the Ring, his will was strong enough. He could remain himself… And he had already proved that he could use the Ring without losing himself. All he had to do was take one step further and abandon himself to the currents of its power… It would be so easy… And he could succeed. He knew he could.
Gandalf felt himself take another step away from the fires. Vaguely, as if from a great distance, he heard two voices screaming his name, but they – who were they, anyway? – seemed so far away, so unimportant…
All that mattered was the Ring.
His left hand rose and touched the One upon his right, and he felt the power inherent in it, felt its pureness and its glee, felt every possibility that was or ever had been – the world was his for the taking. The world was his.
A sudden flash of pain tore into his body and into his mind, making him stagger. His bond with Narya reached out to him, and shocked him back into reality. His Ring called to him, and her voice reached him where Elrond's and Galadriel's cries could not. No! she screamed, and his mind sluggishly worked over her objections. He could not keep the Ring – he would not keep the Ring – But you can, the One whispered seductively. You are stronger. You are worthy of the Ring…
Power rushed into him, but it was not the One's. The beauty and pureness of Narya the Great, the Red Ring, ran through him like a cleansing fire, calling to him, demanding that he defy the One – and suddenly, his heart and mind where his own. Still, though, desire cried that he ought not to destroy something so precious – and for a single, heart-breaking and all-important moment, Narya's insistence faded behind the seductive whispers of the One.
Step away, it told him. One more step. Gandalf's mind still worked slowly over the problem…and he wavered. Just one more step. But he remembered too much. I cannot, he thought fiercely. I will not. There was too much to risk, too many to harm…Middle-Earth deserved its freedom, and he would not take it from them! Still, though, the One spoke in his heart. Take the step! And he did take a step – forward. Shaking his head to clear it, willing the visions of a future and power away, the wizard moved back to the precipice. His body seemed so heavy…it was hard to take even the smallest step, but finally, he reached the edge. The Ring's voice suddenly lost all sweetness and took on the power of Command. Go back! it screamed at him. Go back!
Slowly, he reached for the Ring, knowing that he was fast losing the strength to act against its power. Another moment, and it might be too late…
Go back! the Ring demanded. Step no further! Its voice took on a slow and powerful hiss that chilled him to the very core of his immortal being. You. Will. Not. Dare. And he struggled against its power, his mind made up, fighting the desires within his soul. His heart replied to the Ring's cries with force that his mind still lacked. I will not!
Agony suddenly ripped into him as the One made its last attack, and he screamed in pain. The force of its power threatened to push him away from the edge, and his vision went black as he nearly passed out. From somewhere deep inside, Gandalf found the power to fight back, and he struggled desperately to free his mind from the Ring's grip, calling upon Narya and the long-forbidden powers that he possessed. But the One had been forged by a Maia, and knew this well. One Ring, it gloated in his mind, to rule them all.
"No!" The wild cry rushed from his lips by its own accord, and with a great effort, Gandalf tore the One from his right hand. Still, though, its influence remained, and he felt it prey upon his mind – You. Will. Not! Body aching, and suddenly exhausted, the Maia forced his eyes open – he did not even know that he had shut them – Step away! the One's screams were desperate and pained his mind to even feel.
For one last second, he stared at the One Ring. Its beauty was unmarred, its runes glowing in the firelight…and its power as corrupted and evil as ever. Step away! it wailed. You cannot destroy the One! He felt his knees begin to buckle under the strain as the Ring attacked his very body, and with the last of his strength, he flung the One Ring into the fires of Mount Doom.
As he watched it fly through the misty vapors, glowing and screaming in his mind, Gandalf felt his body collapse, and topple towards the fiery lava beneath him.
