Otay! Now back to what you have all been waiting for. Yes I realize I've
destroyed Middle-Earth, Gollum has unwillingly taken the Ring to it's
master and armies from Mordor began their consumption of the world,
starting with Gondor and Rohan, as the strength men fail and our fellowship
has fallen Frodo and Gandalf remain as the world crumbles beneath them.
Gandalf has only begun his flight to Barad-dur and if he will make it or
not is uncertain. He knows Middle-Earth shall fall to the darkness but
there is one left who still deserves peace, one who still lives in the
midst of all destruction who might find some form of escape, thought it may
cost him his memory and all that he holds dear, he really doesn't have to
know that... does he? After all peace is a small reward for what he has
done, what he has risked, even if the quest has failed, he deserves to
live!
~~~
The sky was so dark, day and night had become one shadowy haze. Gandalf's dark eyes pierced through the darkness of the land and sky ahead, blending into one bleak landscape of death and despair, the storm had broke and it was for the worst. It would be a storm of such destruction nothing would remain. The ground shook and Gandalf heard its rumbling and moaning as the very foundations of the earth were crumbling. Gandalf fought the despair and pressed onward.
*He could not be left to die. Not in this. Not alone. Not this way. He didn't deserve such an end.*
The storm wrapped around the Eagle and his burden as if they were dark hands holding him down, keeping him from his quest, trying to choke the last hope out of him. Gandalf fought it once more, images of the Balrog and falling falling into dark depths flashed by his mind. The wind groped him, pulling him back, dragging him ever further away from his destination.
*He will wake to find himself alone. All alone in the darkness. In the center of the storm. Where the very ground will give way and the sky will tear above him. Such visions were deserved by no mortals. Such destruction was not his to see. It was not his time. He must come out alive!*
Gandalf looked down and saw armies pouring out of the land as ants out of their sandhill. The eagle and the wizard pressed on. They could not give up. For Frodo's sake. On into the darkness. On into the storm to save what remained of Middle-Earth and deliver him to peace.
~~~
Meanwhile in the calm darkness of Frodo's dreams he stood alone on the brink of eternity. The world crumbled around him and no light penetrated his vision. There was no sky, no earth, nothing to bear him up or drive him down. The pain was slowly subsiding but fear gripped him like a cold vice. The ghosts of the dreams still haunted him, they were so terrible, maddeningly terrible. Frodo felt his head throb from the horrific nightmares. Darkness and despair, death and orcs, poison and cold taking over his body and freezing his limbs so that he could not struggle against the impending doom. His legs caved beneath him and falling, falling down into the darkness as a heavy burden brought him down like a stone tied to his neck. All the while in the torrents of pain, poison, cold, and a forbodding sense of agonizing doom, there was an eye, writhed in flame, staring at him, mocking him. It laughed, hissed, cackled, the dark tongue of Mordor echoed in his ears and pierced him like a thousand knives. The nightmares were terrible but did he truly want to wake, what the dreams seemed to imply how waking would he he settled into the throbbing darkness of despair and anguish awaiting some strong anchor to grab hold and drag him back to reality, if it were truly better than his dreams had been.
His anchor. Sam. Sam was the one who held him to life all that time. Where was Sam?
Frodo's mind reached out in a weak cry, a small whimper escaped his lips, something had gone terribly wrong, and now he lay alone, curled in a pathetic heap, without any hold to reality, sanity, life. Somehow he had lost his anchor and all was bleak and unclear. There was no up, no down, no life, no death. Where he was, that dark place of agony where foul words filled his mind and a terrible eye pierced him like a blade. The world spun around him. There was nothing left for him now. And where was Sam?
He felt he lay there for an eternity, ever losing his loose grip to sanity and life like a small thread of what was left of Frodo Baggins of the Shire. What was left, he did not know, nor did he care much. It was Sam. There was something wrong with Sam. He would always be there, Frodo could feel that comforting hold, that strong anchor, the soothing touch of real life in a dead land on his own dead hand, gripping him in sleep, pressing against his cold brow, fussing always, making sure life still stirred in his cold spiritless body. Frodo felt he had died long ago and Sam's touch, his very prescence, was the only reason to go on. Because, well, that was Sam. Sam was everything Frodo had wanted in a younger brother, Sam *was* his younger brother. Someone to protect and hold onto, someone who would never judge him, never hate him, always see him for the hero he would never be. That was Sam. That innocent, sweet faithfulness that drove Frodo on and on into death. Sam was the Shire. Sam was life.
He knew he would always be a hero to Sam, even though he could never live up to Sam's vision of him entirely, even though he had failed. He expected no one could ever live up to Sam's vision of the flawless Mr. Frodo. An elf lord, a fearless knight, a light in the dark, wise and strong, unwavering and strong of heart and will, this was Mr. Frodo.
Frodo let out another cry. He could never be any of those. He had failed, his heart gave up long ago, his body broken and hollow, all inside was darkness and cold. How could Sam ever seen those things in him? But that was Sam. Sam was the Shire. Sam was life.
Frodo trembled in the darkness, in the cold grip of fear and anguish. Sam was gone, lost from him, somewhere where Frodo could not see him, feel him, hear him, sense him. They were broken apart. Something had driven between them like a merciless blade. A blade! What has broken the brotherly bond that held Frodo so tight to life? A blade. After a moment's thoughtfulness Frodo casts the thoughts aside as last grips of sanity in his mad senseless mind.
For a moment the throbbing in his head stopped, the world stopped spinning, and the voices stopped shouting. There was another voice, not shouting, but weak with darkness and despair. It was small, so small, Frodo almost took it as small cries of the wind. But it came closer now, louder, but still weak and hollow and somehow... ghostly. Frodo shiverred and tried to push it away. But despite his attempts it came again, louder.
"Mr. Frodo! Mr. Frodo!"
Frodo's eyes snapped open only to reveal the darkness still around him. He was still trapped in the dreams. In the nightmare. There was still no earth, no sky, no up, no down. But now there was a voice. So small and weak. So unearthly and sad. Frodo staggered to his feet and looked around... nothing.
"Mr. Frodo!"
Frodo tried calling back only finding his own voice was so much different. It was still weak and small, filled with despair and hoarse from choking sobs, but it was earthly, real and alive. "Sam?"
There was a light skitting about in the distance. A small figure formed as it wavered about left and right, searching desperately, frantically, for something. "Mr. Frodo?"
"Yes! Sam? Sam! Here!" Frodo choked but was still frozen in his spot of darkness.
The light was breaking through now and taking form of some small creature. Like a child running through the feilds at night. But with some unearthly glow. Something the penetrated the darkness but not the cold. It was still cold, very cold. Cold as frost, cold as ice, cold as death.
When the figure finally came into view Frodo gasped. Sam spun around and the two were eye to eye. Sam seemed so small. Much smaller than usual. And Frodo finally saw the lost little brother he had always seen in Sam. He was so small. So lost. And he looked so utterly frightened. Sam ran forward and Frodo let out one last shout.
"Sam!"
The smaller hobbit stopped dead infront of Frodo and the two were frozen for some time. Frodo felt so dark, so shadowy, and yet so real next to this unearthly figure of light, not quite tangible, not quite real. Frodo took a step back as if frightened, then stopped as he saw Sam's face sadden. But there was something so wrong, so terribly wrong about the young hobbit that stood before him. His skin was so pale and with the eerie glow of moonlight. It was almost transparent as if he were just a glass of liquid light. The clothes about him were draped like rags, tattered and old. There was a long tear in his shirt and it was dyed red as blood. Blood! Frodo trembled but could not bring himself to come nearer to Sam. Sam's face was so empty, not full of such life like the beaming rays of a warm spring sun, nourishing and bringing to life all around it. Now the sun had died and a cold shadow remained in the pale moonlit liquid, transparent as a clear, still pond. And those bright eyes, like two dancing stars, were now shallow and cold, frozen over like ponds in winter frost. His once bouncing, bright curls, now limp and listless.
Frodo reached out a trembling hand to touch Sam's face. Sam did not flinch. Frodo touched his cheek gently. It was so cold, like feeling ice on a pond. Frodo's own hand was dark compared to the eerie light of Sam's face. His warm, living flesh against Sam's cold unearthly cheek. Sam put a hand up slowly and caught Frodo's hand. It was like a frozen vice. Frodo wanted to pull away but ignored the first instinct of fear as those cold fading pools of frozen light locked on him. Frodo could feel the cold running up his arm, spreading through him and the urge to pull away was still toying with his mind but he fought it, fearing it would hurt Sam.
Immediately the spell was broken and Sam began to shake. His clear form wracked with sobs as silver tears glittered on his cheeks like stars. He collapsed on the ground and Frodo felt the sudden urge to embrace him. He knelt next to him and put his arms around the cold body hoping beyond hope to spread warmth through him and put warm living flesh on this light soul before him. It was cold, so very cold that Frodo was frozen. He could not move or rock gently, but he held tight, despite the icy pain shooting through him.
"I'm so frightened, Mr. Frodo! And I'm all alone! I'm sorry, I've failed you!" cried Sam, his voice so full of light and despair at once that Frodo felt his heart tear.
"I'm here, Sam, don't be frightened. How have you failed?"
"I'm sorry I failed you! It's all over now, they're all gone. It's all for naught. But I'm so frightened! It's so dark here! Dark and cold and lonely!"
Frodo could barely find words and tried to keep his trembling voice steady. "Oh Sam you've done nothing wrong. Where are we? How did we get here and how do we get out?"
Sam looked up. "Out, sir?" He started shaking his head mechanically. "I'm lost here. I can't get out. I need help. I'm all alone. I can't go alone! I can't go! Oh please, sir!"
"Can't go where, Sam?"
Sam saw it futile to give Frodo an answer without raising more questions. "I'm so frightened. And I'm trapped here. I can't go alone! I need help!"
"I'll help you." Frodo wasn't sure what Sam was talking about but how could he not help him? He would never leave, Sam, not like this.
"Please!" Sam begged. "Please! Don't leave me! Don't leave me all alone here! In the dark! In the cold! Oh please! Don't go! Don't forget! I'm so frightened and I can't get out!"
"Sam. What's happened?" Frodo asked softly his eyes straying to the blood on Sam's shirt and the rip. His hand reached down to the tear but Sam gripped it and pulled it away. "What's happened," Frodo repeated.
Sam's lip quivered. He looked up into Frodo's pleading eyes and turned away. "Please don't leave me. All alone. Please don't go and forget me." His voice was a mere whisper.
"Never. I'll always protect you, little brother." A smile tugged at the corners of Frodo's mouth.
Sam smiled as well but it did not quite reach his eyes. With that, Sam faded, the darkness faded, and Frodo cried out as if he had failed in his promise only moments after he had made it. He could not! He would not! Yet it was all fading. What was happening?
~
Okay interesting cliffhanger no? Yes more's a comin'! Please review on this. What do you think happened? Thank you all for the lovely reviews. I'm glad you all understand the evil hand thing. This was actually a very strong chapter. Lots of emotion. I felt myself fall away. Infact when I started this chapter it was 12:00 am and now its 1:30 well I should go I got PSAT's tomorrow O_o ::gasp:: PLEASE REVIEW!! Thank you!!!
~~~
The sky was so dark, day and night had become one shadowy haze. Gandalf's dark eyes pierced through the darkness of the land and sky ahead, blending into one bleak landscape of death and despair, the storm had broke and it was for the worst. It would be a storm of such destruction nothing would remain. The ground shook and Gandalf heard its rumbling and moaning as the very foundations of the earth were crumbling. Gandalf fought the despair and pressed onward.
*He could not be left to die. Not in this. Not alone. Not this way. He didn't deserve such an end.*
The storm wrapped around the Eagle and his burden as if they were dark hands holding him down, keeping him from his quest, trying to choke the last hope out of him. Gandalf fought it once more, images of the Balrog and falling falling into dark depths flashed by his mind. The wind groped him, pulling him back, dragging him ever further away from his destination.
*He will wake to find himself alone. All alone in the darkness. In the center of the storm. Where the very ground will give way and the sky will tear above him. Such visions were deserved by no mortals. Such destruction was not his to see. It was not his time. He must come out alive!*
Gandalf looked down and saw armies pouring out of the land as ants out of their sandhill. The eagle and the wizard pressed on. They could not give up. For Frodo's sake. On into the darkness. On into the storm to save what remained of Middle-Earth and deliver him to peace.
~~~
Meanwhile in the calm darkness of Frodo's dreams he stood alone on the brink of eternity. The world crumbled around him and no light penetrated his vision. There was no sky, no earth, nothing to bear him up or drive him down. The pain was slowly subsiding but fear gripped him like a cold vice. The ghosts of the dreams still haunted him, they were so terrible, maddeningly terrible. Frodo felt his head throb from the horrific nightmares. Darkness and despair, death and orcs, poison and cold taking over his body and freezing his limbs so that he could not struggle against the impending doom. His legs caved beneath him and falling, falling down into the darkness as a heavy burden brought him down like a stone tied to his neck. All the while in the torrents of pain, poison, cold, and a forbodding sense of agonizing doom, there was an eye, writhed in flame, staring at him, mocking him. It laughed, hissed, cackled, the dark tongue of Mordor echoed in his ears and pierced him like a thousand knives. The nightmares were terrible but did he truly want to wake, what the dreams seemed to imply how waking would he he settled into the throbbing darkness of despair and anguish awaiting some strong anchor to grab hold and drag him back to reality, if it were truly better than his dreams had been.
His anchor. Sam. Sam was the one who held him to life all that time. Where was Sam?
Frodo's mind reached out in a weak cry, a small whimper escaped his lips, something had gone terribly wrong, and now he lay alone, curled in a pathetic heap, without any hold to reality, sanity, life. Somehow he had lost his anchor and all was bleak and unclear. There was no up, no down, no life, no death. Where he was, that dark place of agony where foul words filled his mind and a terrible eye pierced him like a blade. The world spun around him. There was nothing left for him now. And where was Sam?
He felt he lay there for an eternity, ever losing his loose grip to sanity and life like a small thread of what was left of Frodo Baggins of the Shire. What was left, he did not know, nor did he care much. It was Sam. There was something wrong with Sam. He would always be there, Frodo could feel that comforting hold, that strong anchor, the soothing touch of real life in a dead land on his own dead hand, gripping him in sleep, pressing against his cold brow, fussing always, making sure life still stirred in his cold spiritless body. Frodo felt he had died long ago and Sam's touch, his very prescence, was the only reason to go on. Because, well, that was Sam. Sam was everything Frodo had wanted in a younger brother, Sam *was* his younger brother. Someone to protect and hold onto, someone who would never judge him, never hate him, always see him for the hero he would never be. That was Sam. That innocent, sweet faithfulness that drove Frodo on and on into death. Sam was the Shire. Sam was life.
He knew he would always be a hero to Sam, even though he could never live up to Sam's vision of him entirely, even though he had failed. He expected no one could ever live up to Sam's vision of the flawless Mr. Frodo. An elf lord, a fearless knight, a light in the dark, wise and strong, unwavering and strong of heart and will, this was Mr. Frodo.
Frodo let out another cry. He could never be any of those. He had failed, his heart gave up long ago, his body broken and hollow, all inside was darkness and cold. How could Sam ever seen those things in him? But that was Sam. Sam was the Shire. Sam was life.
Frodo trembled in the darkness, in the cold grip of fear and anguish. Sam was gone, lost from him, somewhere where Frodo could not see him, feel him, hear him, sense him. They were broken apart. Something had driven between them like a merciless blade. A blade! What has broken the brotherly bond that held Frodo so tight to life? A blade. After a moment's thoughtfulness Frodo casts the thoughts aside as last grips of sanity in his mad senseless mind.
For a moment the throbbing in his head stopped, the world stopped spinning, and the voices stopped shouting. There was another voice, not shouting, but weak with darkness and despair. It was small, so small, Frodo almost took it as small cries of the wind. But it came closer now, louder, but still weak and hollow and somehow... ghostly. Frodo shiverred and tried to push it away. But despite his attempts it came again, louder.
"Mr. Frodo! Mr. Frodo!"
Frodo's eyes snapped open only to reveal the darkness still around him. He was still trapped in the dreams. In the nightmare. There was still no earth, no sky, no up, no down. But now there was a voice. So small and weak. So unearthly and sad. Frodo staggered to his feet and looked around... nothing.
"Mr. Frodo!"
Frodo tried calling back only finding his own voice was so much different. It was still weak and small, filled with despair and hoarse from choking sobs, but it was earthly, real and alive. "Sam?"
There was a light skitting about in the distance. A small figure formed as it wavered about left and right, searching desperately, frantically, for something. "Mr. Frodo?"
"Yes! Sam? Sam! Here!" Frodo choked but was still frozen in his spot of darkness.
The light was breaking through now and taking form of some small creature. Like a child running through the feilds at night. But with some unearthly glow. Something the penetrated the darkness but not the cold. It was still cold, very cold. Cold as frost, cold as ice, cold as death.
When the figure finally came into view Frodo gasped. Sam spun around and the two were eye to eye. Sam seemed so small. Much smaller than usual. And Frodo finally saw the lost little brother he had always seen in Sam. He was so small. So lost. And he looked so utterly frightened. Sam ran forward and Frodo let out one last shout.
"Sam!"
The smaller hobbit stopped dead infront of Frodo and the two were frozen for some time. Frodo felt so dark, so shadowy, and yet so real next to this unearthly figure of light, not quite tangible, not quite real. Frodo took a step back as if frightened, then stopped as he saw Sam's face sadden. But there was something so wrong, so terribly wrong about the young hobbit that stood before him. His skin was so pale and with the eerie glow of moonlight. It was almost transparent as if he were just a glass of liquid light. The clothes about him were draped like rags, tattered and old. There was a long tear in his shirt and it was dyed red as blood. Blood! Frodo trembled but could not bring himself to come nearer to Sam. Sam's face was so empty, not full of such life like the beaming rays of a warm spring sun, nourishing and bringing to life all around it. Now the sun had died and a cold shadow remained in the pale moonlit liquid, transparent as a clear, still pond. And those bright eyes, like two dancing stars, were now shallow and cold, frozen over like ponds in winter frost. His once bouncing, bright curls, now limp and listless.
Frodo reached out a trembling hand to touch Sam's face. Sam did not flinch. Frodo touched his cheek gently. It was so cold, like feeling ice on a pond. Frodo's own hand was dark compared to the eerie light of Sam's face. His warm, living flesh against Sam's cold unearthly cheek. Sam put a hand up slowly and caught Frodo's hand. It was like a frozen vice. Frodo wanted to pull away but ignored the first instinct of fear as those cold fading pools of frozen light locked on him. Frodo could feel the cold running up his arm, spreading through him and the urge to pull away was still toying with his mind but he fought it, fearing it would hurt Sam.
Immediately the spell was broken and Sam began to shake. His clear form wracked with sobs as silver tears glittered on his cheeks like stars. He collapsed on the ground and Frodo felt the sudden urge to embrace him. He knelt next to him and put his arms around the cold body hoping beyond hope to spread warmth through him and put warm living flesh on this light soul before him. It was cold, so very cold that Frodo was frozen. He could not move or rock gently, but he held tight, despite the icy pain shooting through him.
"I'm so frightened, Mr. Frodo! And I'm all alone! I'm sorry, I've failed you!" cried Sam, his voice so full of light and despair at once that Frodo felt his heart tear.
"I'm here, Sam, don't be frightened. How have you failed?"
"I'm sorry I failed you! It's all over now, they're all gone. It's all for naught. But I'm so frightened! It's so dark here! Dark and cold and lonely!"
Frodo could barely find words and tried to keep his trembling voice steady. "Oh Sam you've done nothing wrong. Where are we? How did we get here and how do we get out?"
Sam looked up. "Out, sir?" He started shaking his head mechanically. "I'm lost here. I can't get out. I need help. I'm all alone. I can't go alone! I can't go! Oh please, sir!"
"Can't go where, Sam?"
Sam saw it futile to give Frodo an answer without raising more questions. "I'm so frightened. And I'm trapped here. I can't go alone! I need help!"
"I'll help you." Frodo wasn't sure what Sam was talking about but how could he not help him? He would never leave, Sam, not like this.
"Please!" Sam begged. "Please! Don't leave me! Don't leave me all alone here! In the dark! In the cold! Oh please! Don't go! Don't forget! I'm so frightened and I can't get out!"
"Sam. What's happened?" Frodo asked softly his eyes straying to the blood on Sam's shirt and the rip. His hand reached down to the tear but Sam gripped it and pulled it away. "What's happened," Frodo repeated.
Sam's lip quivered. He looked up into Frodo's pleading eyes and turned away. "Please don't leave me. All alone. Please don't go and forget me." His voice was a mere whisper.
"Never. I'll always protect you, little brother." A smile tugged at the corners of Frodo's mouth.
Sam smiled as well but it did not quite reach his eyes. With that, Sam faded, the darkness faded, and Frodo cried out as if he had failed in his promise only moments after he had made it. He could not! He would not! Yet it was all fading. What was happening?
~
Okay interesting cliffhanger no? Yes more's a comin'! Please review on this. What do you think happened? Thank you all for the lovely reviews. I'm glad you all understand the evil hand thing. This was actually a very strong chapter. Lots of emotion. I felt myself fall away. Infact when I started this chapter it was 12:00 am and now its 1:30 well I should go I got PSAT's tomorrow O_o ::gasp:: PLEASE REVIEW!! Thank you!!!