Chapter 1
Frodo lost her mind.
The sky above her was blue and not black. The air tasted fresh; unsullied by noxious gasses. The grass soft on her feet like stepping on cotton.
Just moments ago she had been standing in the midst of an active volcano.
This was a dream then. It had to be. One could not travel thousands of miles in the span of a moment. Maybe this is what the ring was making her see? She could only resist its temptations for so long. Now it seemed she had finally cracked and broken under its pressure.
Frodo had lost her mind.
Feeling sick and nauseous she slowly sat on the ground.
I was not strong enough. Salty tears bubbled and ran down her dirty cheeks.
The ring always won.
Frodo had been carrying the ring for months- no- years. When Gimli's axe shattered in Rivendell it took all hope from her. The ring could not be destroyed. That was the beginning of her end. She knew whatever the future held wasn't going to be pretty. There was no guarantee she would make it to Mordor.
In the end, she lost her mind.
The ring never had to be her responsibility.
Yet, standing amongst the post powerful souls to grace Middle Earth, there was not one person who would take it. None whom were strong enough to bear it. None whom could carry the ring to Mordor.
Maybe the ring had already infected her mind then and told her she had to be the Ring Bearer.
Who could stop such evil? Who would risk their lives?
She had made her decision. It would be no warrior. No man. No elf. No dwarf. Just a hobbit.
A young, silly, inexperienced hobbit who thought she could carry it.
The Ring was her burden. Hers alone. Her fate was sealed the night she accepted Bilbo's ring from Gandalf. She didn't understand it's power then but she did now.
She would never be the same again.
Frodo carried the ring all the way to Mordor.
She had fought against her mind and opened her palm to drop the ring into the fire.
And then-
Frodo opened her eyes.
Not to ashy air with boiling temperatures and a torturous sky filled with black clouds and thunderstorms but serene and quiet. Blue sky and fluffy clouds, soft grass beneath her. The smell of dew on dirt and pinewood overwhelming. So very clean. So bright and lively.
For the first time in many months she felt unburdened with the ring's weight on her neck. Her body light and free from the chains of it's power. Like an empty shell. She gasped for air, as if she had not truly been breathing before.
Frodo tentatively lowered down and lay in the grass, body thrumming with aches and bruises from months of treacherous travel. She was exhausted. Her hand was aching fiercely. Sharp pains suddenly coursing up her arm when she put weight on it.
Frodo held her right hand up to see. Blood was everywhere and leaking down her arm and dropping onto the grass. Her index finger was missing. The white of her bone sticking out clearly. How did I not notice? Her eyes blew wide and she quickly pressed her hand into her shirt to stem the bleeding. She let out a cry and gnashed her teeth together as the pain of it finally registered. What happened?
Frodo finally lost her mind.
