"Days! Days-s-s-s! And the hobbits-s-s-s-s will not rest! We're tired, we are!"
The three slowly climbed another ledge, Smeagol refusing to be quiet. He had taken quite enough of the rock scaling.
"No, we cannot stop yet" Frodo commanded, starting up another ledge. Shrell smiled sadly at Smeagol, who began to rock back and forth on his heels, hissing and whimpering.
"None of our suffering will be in vain" Shrell whispered, giving the tired creature a hand up over a jagged ledge. Frodo stared down at the two. He felt in his heart that the ring had done something to him; changed him.
"Do you let your heart and life rest in the hands of fate, Shcoligrafa?" Frodo growled, rolling his eyes.
Shrell did not reply, she simply continued on beside Frodo.
The rocks continued to get steeper and steeper. The air also had become very hot, like smoke rising from a fire. This was Mount Doom, they were nearing the end of their journey; or nearing the end of their lives.
"We cannot go on without food, precious! We will straves-s-s-s-s! Please will the Master stops-s-s-s, Please let the Master take pity!" Smeagol hissed, his eyes wide and pleading.
Frodo looked at Shrell, who was gazing at the smoky sky, her eye brows furrowed. Her vision shifted back to Frodo.
"Smeagol is right, we need food" she stated, her lips tight. Frodo nodded.
"We'll spread out, then. Collect whatever you can" he replied, "Meet back here by dark." And with that the three were off.
Kneeling on another rock, Frodo began to pluck the few withered grasses that were growing up between the weathered rocks. There were dry and wilted but still the biggest patch that Frodo had come across. He sighed and hoped that the others were having better luck than he. Standing up again, he slowly made his way to another patch of dry grass.
Only three or so strands of the weeds grew through the rocks, leaving Frodo very discouraged. He grimaced and plucked them, leaning back on his heels and looking at the gray sky with tired eyes. He needed rest.
~~
Frodo was the first to return. The sun was low in the sky and it was almost dark. The Hobbit had but a handful of grass and hardly had the strength to pick another of the weeds. He lay back, his hands placed behind his head. He began to dream of the Shire, of the long grassy fields, the warm sun, the light breeze.
A hissing awoke Frodo from his thoughts. Smeagol was staggering up the rocks with a leafy branch in his mouth, a look of annoyance on his face. Behind him was a small, black creature, climbing up the rocks and scurrying around his feet.
Frodo laughed. Aquarius had returned. The tiny beast ran towards Frodo and jumped onto his shoulder with much ease, Smeagol huffing up the rocks behind. He sat beside Frodo, setting the branch down with the grass.
"We'll starves-s-s! This isn't fair! Smeagol does what Master wants-s-s! Smeagol is faithful! Why must Smeagol starves-s?" He hissed and whimpered, looking up at the now dark skies. "Of courses-s-s" he started,"We could eats the nasty black beasties-s-s!" he snickered, looking at Aquarius, who snarled.
Frodo hardly noticed. He was tired. Rest was all that could fill his mind, he needed rest. Yet sleep seemed so impossible. He tried to thick of something different. 'Maybe Shrell has found something. Maybe that's what's taking her so long..." He mused.
It seemed like ages had passed and Shrell still had not returned. Frodo was pacing over the rocks, his eyes moving back and forth.
"She should be back by now" he pondered, stopping. He again scanned the cliffs but she was not in sight. He began to pace again but soon sat down on the rocks again, sweat breaking out on his forehead.
Only about five minutes later the sound of foot steps could be heard from behind the stones. Frodo shot to his feet.
"Shrell?" he cried then waited for a reply.
"Yes?" came the voice of the female hobbit. She sounded tired and somewhat troubled.
Frodo took a few steps in her direction, Watching her appear over the rocks.
Frodo stepped back in shock when he saw her. Over her shoulder was a huge arm. She was hauling an Orc. Frodo felt his throat tighten and his stomach began to feel ill.
"What do you think your doing?" Frodo cried, in disgust. Shrell rolled the Orc off her shoulder in front of him.
"This is no time to be picky. We'll starve if we eat merely grass" she answered, looking over at what Smeagol and Frodo had collected. Frodo sighed, knowing she was right.
It was a terrible sight watching Shrell butcher the Orc. Frodo had seen her lips looking very tight and her eye brows furrowed as she cut into the giant beast. Half the time he found himself looking away but the sound of Shrell's thin dirk cutting at the Orc's flesh would always convince him to look back at the butchery.
Soon Shrell had cut a good amount of meat from the Orc. She looked displeased as she slowly wiped the Orc blood from her face.
"Do you wish to risk a fire?" Shrell questioned, turning to Frodo. He looked over at the meat and winced.
"Yes, I'm not eating that raw."
Eating the meat was twice as bad as watching Shrell cut it. It had a very bitter taste and it was hard and chewy. Frodo and Shrell hardly were able to eat it but their hunger had the better of them. Smeagol was the only one who seemed to enjoy the meat and soon it was gone.
"Satisfied, aren't we, precious?" Smeagol gloated, leaning back on the rocks. Aquarius curled up as well and began to sleep as well.
Frodo sighed. He wanted sleep more than ever but he couldn't rest. His eyes darted back and forth as he lay on the rocks, then slowly he closed them. All he could think of was the Ring. It seemed to hang in his mind like fog dwindles over a pond. He could see it, feel the cold metal in his hand.
Frodo's eyes shot open. Everything was quiet besides the faint crackling of the dying fire as Shrell poked at the still warm coals, creating a soft, warm glow around the companions.
Shrell was nearly motionless now, her eyes fixed on the glowing coals, reflecting the golden light on their glassy surface. She seemed to be illuminated by the soft light, her face was perfectly visible, though a yellow flicker cast upon it. Her hair as well looked gold in the warmth of the dying fire, but she seemed unaware......not her usual alert self. She seemed lifeless.
Frodo watched her silently. What was she thinking of? Why were her eyes so emotionless? She was hardly breathing, it was as if she were dead, gone from this world and the only thing that was keeping her physical body from disappearing was Frodo himself. Just an invisible rope of the mind and dreams kept her from falling.
Her eyes suddenly closed as if she were pained by something. A very soft tune rose from her lips, almost as quiet as the air itself. A lonely song of solitude and loss. Frodo had never heard a tune as this. He felt that he had lost her completely, that she would never again be the fearless, brave Shrell. He had leaned his fears on her and she had taken the burden and was always there for him. Whenever he gave up, she would strive forward for him. When fear consumed him, she would be his bravery. She was strong when he was weak. She would guide him if he was lost. But when she was lost, hopeless, and fearful who would be there? Who could she turn to? All she had was the night sky and her lonely ballad of grief which she whispered into the air.
'I was never truly thankful for all she did for me. I never saw her grief. All I saw was my own. My fear, my confusion, my weakness, my burden. She carried them all for me. I am not the true bearer of the Ring, for she has carried it for me....'
Frodo rose from the rocks. He slowly approached her, his hands trembling. She could not hear his footsteps, she didn't know he was there. She was lost, lost in the night air.
Frodo slowly placed a hand on her shoulder. She did not move, did not feel.
"Shrell.....You must come back to this world now..." Frodo whispered. He could feel the connection she had to reality begin to disappear, he could feel the rope beginning to break. "Come back."
Her eyes suddenly opened. She was not lost. She swallowed hard, her eyes brimming with tears.
"Are you that alone?" Frodo whispered.
"No..." she started, shaking her head. "I have you and....No, I'm not alone..." she murmured, her breath shaky from with holding tears. Frodo could see in her eyes that she was trying to escape from the journey. It had been too long. She needed peace.
"Then tell what it is you run from" Frodo inquired.
"I just....I'm weak with fear. Day by day I grow more afraid and as we near the end of our journey it becomes more clear to me what will happen if we should fail. That's what I run from.....I run from a vision of pain on sorrow. A vision of Middle Earth once we've failed. It is too plain that fate rests in our hands."
"And those would have meant nothing to me if I did not see you as I do now. I had no one leaning on me. If ever I had a problem I could trust you to take it from my shoulders. So.....fate was never resting 'our' hands, it was resting in your hands."
Shrell took in a deep breath and sighed. She smiled faintly and rose her head to look at the sky above.
"I have taken to much from you and I beg your forgiveness" Frodo pleaded. Shrell shook her head. "No, what you took I was willing to give. I thought I needed no one but I was wrong. No one could make this journey alone and that's why I have become weak. I thought I could" she answered, her eyes were starting to regain their fire. "So,I admit now that I can't do this alone."
Frodo smiled and flung his arms around her. "You won't have to. I will always be here" Frodo whispered into her ear. Shrell closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around Frodo.
" If your burden becomes unbearable, do not make my mistake. No one could make this journey alone" Shrell answered. She was silent for a second. "Thankyou" she finally whispered.
To be continued