"Mr. Frodo?"
A small squeak as the door creaked open a crack. Frodo peered over the edge of his book but did not see anyone emerge from behind the door. He set the book down and smiled. "Come in Samwise."
A tiny hobbit-lad appeared staring down at his toes. His sandy curls bobbed hiding his reddened face.
"What is it Sam?" Frodo set aside the book and lifted up the tiny hobbit.
He looked up, his sunny face bright with a broad grin, "I thought I'd bother you."
"Bother me?" Frodo laughed, his voice filling the air like silver chimes. It was a very light and beautiful laughter that assuaged all of Sam's fears. He tickled the young lad's tummy and spun him around. "Cursed be the day, Samwise! You're never a bother to me!"
"Are you busy, sir?" Sam's eyes glanced down at the book left open on the bed.
Frodo set the tiny hobbit on the bed and tossed his curls. He picked up the book and put it back on the shelf among the others. "Not too busy for you, dear Sam."
Sam looked down sorrowfully. "Everyone's too busy for me," he whimpered.
"How so?" Frodo plucked him off of his spot on the bed, holding up the small taunt by the armpits. He sagged a bit, his elbows lifted high and his big, round eyes gazed down at Frodo.
"Well, Hamson an' Halfred said I got in the way this morning when they were helpin' me Gaffer with the chores about the smial. An' Daisy an' May tol' me I was too small to help 'em bake wit' Mama. I'm jus' too small an' a bother for everyone." Tears filled the hobbit-lad's round eyes.
"Oh Sam!" Frodo cried hugging the tiny hobbit close to him. "You're never a bother, and I think you're just the right size. After all when you get big I won't be able to spin you around, or carry you about pig-a-back. You'd have to carry me one day at the rate you're growing."
Sam giggled as Frodo ticked his tummy again. He plopped him down and smiled, "Now what could I do for you?"
Sam bounced happily, grinning. "Could you tell me a story?"
Frodo hopped back on the bed and set Sam on his lap. "But of course. What kind of story would you like to hear?"
"Oh! I would like to hear a story about elves, sir!"
Frodo laughed again, "Elves? Well I suppose you've heard about every story there is to tell about elves."
"Oh please, sir! I don't mind!"
Frodo tried to suppress this next outburst of laughter, "Okay Sam, something about elves."
All the while through the tale Frodo focussed on Sam's bright and shining face. Like a warm sun or innocent flower. His eyes twinkled, bursting with light like two bright stars shining just for Frodo. Frodo grinned, widely, he wanted it to never end. When it was over the small hobbit was snuggled, warm in Frodo's arms drifting off to sleep. Frodo looked down and just saw a mass of sandy curls. He sighed and gave into sleep as well once the tale was told.
His dreamlike state was broken by Sam's voice, quiet and peaceful, "I wish you were my brother."
"Tell you what, Samwise," Frodo shifted and hugged the tiny hobbit closer, "I'll be your big brother if you want, as long as you need one."
"Oh would you, sir? Forever, sir?"
Frodo chuckled, "Yes, Sam, forever. And I'll never leave you, not only for one second."
Frodo felt his mind drift, the image of the tiny hobbit napping in his arms fade away. He floated through dreams of coldness and darkness until his eyes flickered open. His eyelashes fluttered as dark images played before his eyes. He closed them tightly hoping to wake back in Bag-End with the tiny hobbit nestled in his arms. When he opened them again the black sky was filled with smoke and the earth rumbled and moaned as if it were breaking from inside. Frodo stirred.
It was just a dream, a memory, lying in the back of his mind of times long passed. He looked around from where he lay, a bit dizzy but all other effects of the spider's poison were gone. He sat up and got hit with a light dizzy spell, like waking one morning after having a touch too much ale. He saw Sam curled up in front of him, back facing him. He crawled over and reached out a hand to touch Sam's shoulder.
"Sam, I think I fell asleep while on watch. We should get going. We should- "
It was cold. His shoulder was cold as ice and Frodo caught his words in his throat. "Sam?"
He pressed gently on his shoulder and the body turned over. Frodo shrieked and threw himself back. The image of the bright and sunny hobbit smiling on his lap broke, shattered into thousands of pieces. Frodo's eyes burned with tears as they poured like two endless rivers down his face. Looking at him, straight at him, were the once starry eyes of a young hobbit, a dear friend. Now faded and clouded like a clear pond frozen over with the winter frost. His mouth was partly open; just enough to give the image that he was sleeping, just sleeping quietly and peacefully. Frodo never stopped screaming, crying, sobbing. His first shriek was the sound of a tearing heart, a broken soul, the ripped through the heavy darkness of the shadowy land like a knife. Frodo could feel a knife, driving in to his chest, tearing at his heart, like the one that stuck into his dearest, kindest friend.
The ground was creaking and trembling, moaning as it was about to give weigh to the weight it held up. The sky looked like it was unraveling, a black mass of fabric tearing at the seems. The sun fell and the moon shattered, the stars faded and all the world was coming to an end. This was as true in reality as it was in Frodo's heart. He could feel what was happening to all of Middle-Earth. The breaking, the crumbling, the darkness all filling him and leaving him empty at the same time. His mind could still not fathom what his eyes just took in. Some terrible nightmare, some torturous dream, this could not be real. He felt like punching himself, cutting himself, doing something to wake himself. But no physical wound could ever compare to the pain he felt inside.
Doubts raced across his mind faster than he could catch them. Did he? No, never! But the ring? Was gone! And Sam? Was GONE! The cold realization of everything that had come to pass hit Frodo like a strong wave, sucking the life out of him, drowning him in sorrow and despair.
Frodo collapsed, shaking, trembling, cursing and crying. "Oh Sam! It's all my fault! I promised I'd never leave you! I promised and I failed! You tried, you braved everything to keep your promise and I failed! Oh Sam! It was my fault! I killed you!" He shook his head madly sobbing into his hands, screaming up at the heavens as they fell.
*I'm lost here. I can't get out. I need help. I'm all alone.*
Sam's voice seemed to drift on a sad wind. Frodo's head shot up, tears still coursing down his face. "S-Sam?"
*Oh please, sir! I'm so frightened. And I'm trapped here. I can't go alone! I need help!*
Frodo staggered to his feet and looked around madly. "Sam! I'm coming Sam! I'll help you!"
He stopped dead in his tracks. What was he doing? Sam was dead. He lay before him. His sank back down again. "I'm going mad," he whispered, shaking.
"Oh Sam," he cried, pulling his knees up to his chin.
*Please! Don't leave me! Don't leave me all alone here! In the dark! In the cold!*
"I wouldn't! I won't! Where are you!" Frodo screamed, his voice being swallowed by the terrible sounds of destruction around him. After what felt like an eternity, wallowing in darkness and endless pain, never lessening, never ceasing, for Sam was gone.
He looked up and scrambled over the cliffs above him. His fingers cut and bled but he was blind to the pain. When he finally reached the top, his breath coming in gasps, he dropped to his knees and cried in horror. All the world, all of Middle-Earth was covered in darkness. Mordor was growing and eating up all the lands. He could see movement in the distance, great black masses trooping across the land. Orcs. Armies of orcs. The sky cracked with thunder and the ground beneath him rumbled in answer. Wind swirled and screamed in his ears, lightning flashed and cut across the blackened sky. The storm had broken, and would now destroy everything, everyone.
Aragorn. Legolas. Gimli. Pippin. Merry. They were all gone. Gandalf. Sam. All left him behind. He could feel the earth, they were no longer part of it. No. No, wait. One was. One other still remained. He remembered on the seat of Amon Hen. The voice. It saved him, Gandalf. He trembled and his voice rose over the destruction, over the death.
"Gandalf!" It was thrown back into his mouth.
All the rest. They were gone. He felt them leave him. No longer a part of this world, this crumbling, dying world. Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Merry; fell in battle in the Grey Wood. He could see them, the images played in his mind, behind his eyes, all of them fell one by one. Pippin fell in Gondor, one lone hobbit against the first force of Mordor. Tears filled Frodo's eyes. And Sam. Sam right below him, fell at his side. But why? Had he killed himself? Or had-
Frodo fell to his knees again, "I'd never! I didn't! I couldn't! Oh what have I done! What have I done! I would never, Sam, never never! But the doubt! I doubt myself! Did I take the ring to Sauron! Did I sentence you all to death! Oh please answers! Answers and death! I wish for both but do I deserve either? What terrible deed have I done!"
*Oh please! Don't go! Don't forget! I'm so frightened and I can't get out!*
Frodo spun around and looked down at the small body lying at the bottom of the cliff. Expecting something, anything. But the voice hung on the wind. Light and cold, frightened and small. "How!" Frodo screamed, "What must I do?"
He cast his head down, the angry winds throwing his damp curls about. One small figure lost among the death and destruction. Lost and confused filled with doubt and darkness, self-loathing and despair. The terrible ear- splitting, earth-shattering sounds of the world coming to its end, the Dark Lord rising, were mute to him. His mind riddled with fear and doubt and hate for his own self. Memories flashed by and faded, broken and shattered. His old life, his old self, was gone, dead, passed away with all his friends. The Shire! It was gone! His people, that was his quest, to save the Shire! Oh how miserably he failed. Frodo wondered where he would go from there, all alone, allowed to live for unfathomable reasons, perhaps it was the torture he deserved. Living with his own hatred, his own wretchedness. Thoughts of Gollum played through his mind. Lost alone, all he knew and love destroyed because of the ring. His life forsaken. Smeagol was dead. And now Frodo Baggins was dead.
Frodo felt his mind slipping away.
*Please don't leave me. All alone. Please don't go and forget me.*
Frodo blinked as the tears burned his eyes. He looked up at the horizon, blank and dark, no more would the sun rise to the new day. No more. But everything was coming clear to him now. What he must do. What was left for him. He slowly made his way down the cliff and back to Sam's side.
A small squeak as the door creaked open a crack. Frodo peered over the edge of his book but did not see anyone emerge from behind the door. He set the book down and smiled. "Come in Samwise."
A tiny hobbit-lad appeared staring down at his toes. His sandy curls bobbed hiding his reddened face.
"What is it Sam?" Frodo set aside the book and lifted up the tiny hobbit.
He looked up, his sunny face bright with a broad grin, "I thought I'd bother you."
"Bother me?" Frodo laughed, his voice filling the air like silver chimes. It was a very light and beautiful laughter that assuaged all of Sam's fears. He tickled the young lad's tummy and spun him around. "Cursed be the day, Samwise! You're never a bother to me!"
"Are you busy, sir?" Sam's eyes glanced down at the book left open on the bed.
Frodo set the tiny hobbit on the bed and tossed his curls. He picked up the book and put it back on the shelf among the others. "Not too busy for you, dear Sam."
Sam looked down sorrowfully. "Everyone's too busy for me," he whimpered.
"How so?" Frodo plucked him off of his spot on the bed, holding up the small taunt by the armpits. He sagged a bit, his elbows lifted high and his big, round eyes gazed down at Frodo.
"Well, Hamson an' Halfred said I got in the way this morning when they were helpin' me Gaffer with the chores about the smial. An' Daisy an' May tol' me I was too small to help 'em bake wit' Mama. I'm jus' too small an' a bother for everyone." Tears filled the hobbit-lad's round eyes.
"Oh Sam!" Frodo cried hugging the tiny hobbit close to him. "You're never a bother, and I think you're just the right size. After all when you get big I won't be able to spin you around, or carry you about pig-a-back. You'd have to carry me one day at the rate you're growing."
Sam giggled as Frodo ticked his tummy again. He plopped him down and smiled, "Now what could I do for you?"
Sam bounced happily, grinning. "Could you tell me a story?"
Frodo hopped back on the bed and set Sam on his lap. "But of course. What kind of story would you like to hear?"
"Oh! I would like to hear a story about elves, sir!"
Frodo laughed again, "Elves? Well I suppose you've heard about every story there is to tell about elves."
"Oh please, sir! I don't mind!"
Frodo tried to suppress this next outburst of laughter, "Okay Sam, something about elves."
All the while through the tale Frodo focussed on Sam's bright and shining face. Like a warm sun or innocent flower. His eyes twinkled, bursting with light like two bright stars shining just for Frodo. Frodo grinned, widely, he wanted it to never end. When it was over the small hobbit was snuggled, warm in Frodo's arms drifting off to sleep. Frodo looked down and just saw a mass of sandy curls. He sighed and gave into sleep as well once the tale was told.
His dreamlike state was broken by Sam's voice, quiet and peaceful, "I wish you were my brother."
"Tell you what, Samwise," Frodo shifted and hugged the tiny hobbit closer, "I'll be your big brother if you want, as long as you need one."
"Oh would you, sir? Forever, sir?"
Frodo chuckled, "Yes, Sam, forever. And I'll never leave you, not only for one second."
Frodo felt his mind drift, the image of the tiny hobbit napping in his arms fade away. He floated through dreams of coldness and darkness until his eyes flickered open. His eyelashes fluttered as dark images played before his eyes. He closed them tightly hoping to wake back in Bag-End with the tiny hobbit nestled in his arms. When he opened them again the black sky was filled with smoke and the earth rumbled and moaned as if it were breaking from inside. Frodo stirred.
It was just a dream, a memory, lying in the back of his mind of times long passed. He looked around from where he lay, a bit dizzy but all other effects of the spider's poison were gone. He sat up and got hit with a light dizzy spell, like waking one morning after having a touch too much ale. He saw Sam curled up in front of him, back facing him. He crawled over and reached out a hand to touch Sam's shoulder.
"Sam, I think I fell asleep while on watch. We should get going. We should- "
It was cold. His shoulder was cold as ice and Frodo caught his words in his throat. "Sam?"
He pressed gently on his shoulder and the body turned over. Frodo shrieked and threw himself back. The image of the bright and sunny hobbit smiling on his lap broke, shattered into thousands of pieces. Frodo's eyes burned with tears as they poured like two endless rivers down his face. Looking at him, straight at him, were the once starry eyes of a young hobbit, a dear friend. Now faded and clouded like a clear pond frozen over with the winter frost. His mouth was partly open; just enough to give the image that he was sleeping, just sleeping quietly and peacefully. Frodo never stopped screaming, crying, sobbing. His first shriek was the sound of a tearing heart, a broken soul, the ripped through the heavy darkness of the shadowy land like a knife. Frodo could feel a knife, driving in to his chest, tearing at his heart, like the one that stuck into his dearest, kindest friend.
The ground was creaking and trembling, moaning as it was about to give weigh to the weight it held up. The sky looked like it was unraveling, a black mass of fabric tearing at the seems. The sun fell and the moon shattered, the stars faded and all the world was coming to an end. This was as true in reality as it was in Frodo's heart. He could feel what was happening to all of Middle-Earth. The breaking, the crumbling, the darkness all filling him and leaving him empty at the same time. His mind could still not fathom what his eyes just took in. Some terrible nightmare, some torturous dream, this could not be real. He felt like punching himself, cutting himself, doing something to wake himself. But no physical wound could ever compare to the pain he felt inside.
Doubts raced across his mind faster than he could catch them. Did he? No, never! But the ring? Was gone! And Sam? Was GONE! The cold realization of everything that had come to pass hit Frodo like a strong wave, sucking the life out of him, drowning him in sorrow and despair.
Frodo collapsed, shaking, trembling, cursing and crying. "Oh Sam! It's all my fault! I promised I'd never leave you! I promised and I failed! You tried, you braved everything to keep your promise and I failed! Oh Sam! It was my fault! I killed you!" He shook his head madly sobbing into his hands, screaming up at the heavens as they fell.
*I'm lost here. I can't get out. I need help. I'm all alone.*
Sam's voice seemed to drift on a sad wind. Frodo's head shot up, tears still coursing down his face. "S-Sam?"
*Oh please, sir! I'm so frightened. And I'm trapped here. I can't go alone! I need help!*
Frodo staggered to his feet and looked around madly. "Sam! I'm coming Sam! I'll help you!"
He stopped dead in his tracks. What was he doing? Sam was dead. He lay before him. His sank back down again. "I'm going mad," he whispered, shaking.
"Oh Sam," he cried, pulling his knees up to his chin.
*Please! Don't leave me! Don't leave me all alone here! In the dark! In the cold!*
"I wouldn't! I won't! Where are you!" Frodo screamed, his voice being swallowed by the terrible sounds of destruction around him. After what felt like an eternity, wallowing in darkness and endless pain, never lessening, never ceasing, for Sam was gone.
He looked up and scrambled over the cliffs above him. His fingers cut and bled but he was blind to the pain. When he finally reached the top, his breath coming in gasps, he dropped to his knees and cried in horror. All the world, all of Middle-Earth was covered in darkness. Mordor was growing and eating up all the lands. He could see movement in the distance, great black masses trooping across the land. Orcs. Armies of orcs. The sky cracked with thunder and the ground beneath him rumbled in answer. Wind swirled and screamed in his ears, lightning flashed and cut across the blackened sky. The storm had broken, and would now destroy everything, everyone.
Aragorn. Legolas. Gimli. Pippin. Merry. They were all gone. Gandalf. Sam. All left him behind. He could feel the earth, they were no longer part of it. No. No, wait. One was. One other still remained. He remembered on the seat of Amon Hen. The voice. It saved him, Gandalf. He trembled and his voice rose over the destruction, over the death.
"Gandalf!" It was thrown back into his mouth.
All the rest. They were gone. He felt them leave him. No longer a part of this world, this crumbling, dying world. Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Merry; fell in battle in the Grey Wood. He could see them, the images played in his mind, behind his eyes, all of them fell one by one. Pippin fell in Gondor, one lone hobbit against the first force of Mordor. Tears filled Frodo's eyes. And Sam. Sam right below him, fell at his side. But why? Had he killed himself? Or had-
Frodo fell to his knees again, "I'd never! I didn't! I couldn't! Oh what have I done! What have I done! I would never, Sam, never never! But the doubt! I doubt myself! Did I take the ring to Sauron! Did I sentence you all to death! Oh please answers! Answers and death! I wish for both but do I deserve either? What terrible deed have I done!"
*Oh please! Don't go! Don't forget! I'm so frightened and I can't get out!*
Frodo spun around and looked down at the small body lying at the bottom of the cliff. Expecting something, anything. But the voice hung on the wind. Light and cold, frightened and small. "How!" Frodo screamed, "What must I do?"
He cast his head down, the angry winds throwing his damp curls about. One small figure lost among the death and destruction. Lost and confused filled with doubt and darkness, self-loathing and despair. The terrible ear- splitting, earth-shattering sounds of the world coming to its end, the Dark Lord rising, were mute to him. His mind riddled with fear and doubt and hate for his own self. Memories flashed by and faded, broken and shattered. His old life, his old self, was gone, dead, passed away with all his friends. The Shire! It was gone! His people, that was his quest, to save the Shire! Oh how miserably he failed. Frodo wondered where he would go from there, all alone, allowed to live for unfathomable reasons, perhaps it was the torture he deserved. Living with his own hatred, his own wretchedness. Thoughts of Gollum played through his mind. Lost alone, all he knew and love destroyed because of the ring. His life forsaken. Smeagol was dead. And now Frodo Baggins was dead.
Frodo felt his mind slipping away.
*Please don't leave me. All alone. Please don't go and forget me.*
Frodo blinked as the tears burned his eyes. He looked up at the horizon, blank and dark, no more would the sun rise to the new day. No more. But everything was coming clear to him now. What he must do. What was left for him. He slowly made his way down the cliff and back to Sam's side.