Disclaimer is the same as in chapter one.
Author's note at the end.
"Hostile Takeover"-Chapter Fifteen: The Mirror of the Soul, Part One
Sally caught Frodo's hand. He looked at her in muted surprise. She knew his intentions and would not let him risk further corruption. Most of his awareness remained buried in the rubble. Frodo himself was not surprised. She saw the Ring's reaction. She reached within her coat. The wicked device that would save them from the danger would be her own.
BOOM!! BOOM!! Their small tunnel exploded with sound. An eerie silence followed. All the combatants stood frozen in the moment, jolted into immobility by a new fear, fear of the unknown. Something made that deafening sound. Something killed two orcs, blasting wide holes in their bodies, allowing their dark blood to seep into the ground.
When Sally was ten years old, her uncle took her and her brothers to the shooting range. She remembered how proud she felt when she shot the 22- gauge rifle with the scope. She took fifteen minutes to line up her shot but when she pulled the trigger, she got a bull's-eye. Shooting targets was fun. It was a game of skill and coordination. As a child, she didn't view the guns that were weapons and the guns that you shoot in target practice as the same tools. She had been a skilled marksman for years.
Today she used that talent to kill. Another innocence stripped away by the darkness of her world.
Boromir watched with stunned amusement as the orcs fled the tunnel in terror. However pleased he felt at their departure, a part of him felt their fear. He knew no more of this frightening weapon than they did. He only had the comfort that it would not be used on him. He turned to see Sally slowly lower her arm. In her hand she held a small, dark, metallic object with a curved handle. "You did that?" he asked, disguising the tension he felt with amused astonishment.
"I did that," she replied stiffly. She tucked the gun back into her coat and tried to return her attention back to freeing Frodo. She shook with pent up energy that wanted to be expelled. She felt like she had done something criminal and had yet to be caught. If she had gutted those orcs with a sword she would not have such guilt. Why did the weapon matter and the act didn't? Perhaps it wasn't the weapon after all but where it came from and the fears that brought it there. "You are right to distrust humanity, Master dwarf," she said gravely. "We are not the noble people we once were."
He looked at her and marveled over her continuing ability to surprise him. "Time changes many things," he offered in comfort. He returned to her side to help her with her master.
"Time and death," she muttered bitterly.
Boromir smiled at her wryly. "Don't you have philosophers in your world, Master Samwise? Death is change."
Frodo looked up at the two in disbelief. Most of his senses still believed that he was dreaming. "He calls you 'Sam'?" he asked in a faraway voice.
Sally crouched down near him. Her battered face filled all his view. "That's right, Mister Frodo," she said gently. Sam's words. Her voice. Just like that stolen moment in Andalsnes. Only now the two realities blended together in a perfect amalgam. She was not dreaming this time and neither was he.
"I call him 'Master Boromir'," Sally said referring to the dwarf.
Frodo glanced to the dwarf as his brow furrowed with confusion. The dwarf, for his part, held back with a demeanor of uncertainty as if waiting for some sign of acceptance that only Frodo could give. Frodo paused on the thought, considering the likelihood of the man's presence. Fate had revealed its plan to him slowly, step by step. It had brought Sam back to him. Boromir's return was not any less probable. "I wondered." he said carefully, recalling the pensive young dwarf pleading with his father back at the camp. "You looked familiar."
The dwarf relaxed visibly. "Not quite as familiar as you looked to me, halfling," he said.
Sally took hold of Frodo's arm gently preparing to help him to his feet. "Do you think that you can stand?" she asked, watching him closely for signs of hidden injury.
Frodo accepted her help gratefully, allowing her larger strength to pull him up. "Until just now I had not thought it would ever be possible, but I will try," he said. He leaned into her, feeling his weight transfer easily to her arms. He felt strange seeing Sally from this perspective. Until he had shed his human glamour, he had looked down upon her, sheltered her in his arms, protected her. Now she stood above him, lifting him up like a child. He felt his face flush with embarrassment. Did she feel the differences as he did?
She smiled at him warmly. If she noticed, she did not care. She was Sam. She would be there no matter what. No matter what.
Frodo choked back a sudden tightness in his throat. She wasn't supposed to have found him. "Sally." he said, his voice full of sudden emotion, "why are you here?"
Sally's smile grew deeper. She almost began to laugh and a wonderment appeared in her eyes that reflected Sam so clearly it almost hurt. "I understand everything now," she said. She brought her face close to his and whispered her words like a secret. "I know who I am and it's not an identity. It's a fate, a purpose. Even Gandalf couldn't keep me away."
But they were not alone. Boromir stood near and he felt shamefully excluded from their closeness. He had nothing but the weakness of his former life to blame. "I brought her to you," he said. "When I saw her, I just knew she belonged with you." His mind had tried to piece together some recipe of redemption but he still felt the bile of dissatisfaction. He did not seek forgiveness from the Ringbearer but from himself. A prize he feared he would never be granted.
Frodo recognized the self-inflicted torment that the young dwarf suffered. He took a step closer to offer him some solace but his foot crumpled beneath him. He stumbled forward and Boromir tried to catch him. For a brief moment, Frodo regarded him with great fear and waved off his assistance. He fell to his knees.
Boromir hovered nervously, uncertain of what to do. Perhaps the Ringbearer's forgiveness was just as elusive as his own. "You have no need to fear me, Frodo," he said softly. "I don't want the Ring anymore."
Frodo shook his head guiltily. "Forgive me," he said with sincerity. "I've become paranoid in my old age. The Ring's thrall is not easily overcome."
Sally appeared at his side, ready to pull him back to his feet. "Are you alright, Mr. Frodo?" she asked.
He nodded, giving her a wry smile. "I must have twisted my ankle when I fell through." He reached down and felt his right ankle gingerly. The swelling had become quite evident, leaving him incapable of continuing under his own power. "It won't take my weight," he said.
Sally looked up at the gaping hole above her that had once been a mine tunnel. "From that height you're lucky nothing's broken," she commented. She looked back down at him and knew at once what she had to do. "Don't you worry, Mr. Frodo," she said, forcing cheer into her voice. "I carried you once before. I'll do it again. I imagine this time, it'll be easier."
Frodo could not help but smile. She was ever his Sam.
Faintly from the tunnel above came the sounds of angry voices and metal clashing against metal. Boromir looked up with restrained impatience and gripped his axe tightly. "I can hear them," he said.
"Woton," Frodo said gravely. He had been so deliriously relieved at being found that he had forgotten the tragic predicament of his guides.
"My father," Boromir whispered.
The young dwarf was torn between the duties of his new life and the redemption of his old. The dilemma drove him mad. Honor had placed too many demands on his weary soul.
Frodo reached out and held Boromir's arm. The dwarf met his eyes, unable to conceal his torment. "You have no debt to me, Boromir," the Ringbearer said to him. "Your weakness was not a sin. No one knows that better than I do."
He hesitated. The strain began to weaken. The choice didn't have to be so hard. "I brought her to you," he said again. Perhaps that was all he needed to do.
Frodo took his hand and pulled himself unsteadily to his feet. "For that you have my eternal gratitude," he said.
"And mine," Sally added. "This is a different life with different obligations. Perhaps it's time to let the old life go." Legolas had told her nearly the opposite about herself. The irony of that was a taste she would share with no one. But Boromir's fate was different from her own, with that; his design was different as well.
Boromir accepted their statements for they allowed him to do what he truly desired. "Farewell then," he said. He glanced towards the tunnel where the orcs had disappeared before. This would be his path to find his father and save him if he could. He looked back to Sally and reached out to cup her chin in his hand. "I wish I had seen your face before it met that wall. What a strange twist fate has dealt us," he said softly then added with great seriousness. "You take care of him, Samwise. His quest must succeed."
"I know," she said quietly. "Good-bye."
Without another word, Boromir ran up the tunnel and disappeared into the darkness.
Sally would never see him again.
* * *
At 9:25 a.m. the following morning, Merrick Brandenburg walked through the tinted revolving doors of the City United Bank. To play off of its close proximity to Central Park, this bank's main office was built as an atrium with three willowy trees growing in the center. A fountain with a koi pond lay at their base.
On any other day Merrick would have found the sight breathtaking. The hobbit he was would have delighted at the irony of the scene. Instead of living in among the trees, these people brought the trees to live among them. But irony and marvel were only fleeting thoughts, taking a back seat to the uneasy churning of his stomach and the quickening pace of his heart. He would rather be any place but here. He was frightened.
As he surveyed his surroundings, his eye caught sight of something that sent a note of calm along his jangling nerves. Seated on an ornately carved wooden bench near the koi pond was Piper chewing vulgarly on a candy bar.
He smiled in spite of his fears. So much had happened since he last saw her. In one way everything had changed between them. In another, nothing had changed. "How long have you been here?" he asked as he reached her.
"Long enough to give that security guard ideas," she said nodding to a uniformed guard across the lobby. He watched her suspiciously as she stuffed the uneaten portion of her candy bar into her bag. Piper stood and faced her friend. For a moment, uncertainty crossed her face. She didn't know what to do. They weren't just Merrick and Piper anymore and she wanted to express that. She wanted to cling to him and feel his arms around her. She wanted to weep. She wanted to cheer.
But she just stood there. Stupid, human, foolish pride kept her still. With Frodo it was different. For a moment Piper ceased to exist. She also wasn't in a bank crowded with people. Pippin would never have fallen victim to embarrassment.
Finally, she just hugged him. Nothing rich with emotion but simple, warm and human. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever show up," she said softly. "I almost called."
"I have an appointment at 9:30," Merrick said into her hair which smelled faintly of smoke. He wondered briefly where she had spent the night. He parted from her before his emotions got the better of him. He pushed a smile past stinging eyes. "Is this the work of fate?" he asked.
Piper wiped away an errant tear and looked away. "If fate is one of Frodo's accountants at Shire Publishing," she replied with a humor that didn't quite make it into her voice. "I gave up on fate yesterday afternoon and started making phone calls."
"Mister Brandenburg?" a petite young woman wearing a dark blue, pinstriped suit broke in with a not-too-subtle tap to Merrick's shoulder.
"Yes?" he replied turning to her with politeness.
"I'm Karen Coon," she said, giving Piper a sidelong glance before returning to her official manner. "We have an appointment.?"
Merrick smiled weakly. "Of course." He had a job to do, a mission to help Frodo in as foreign of a fashion anyone could ever conceive of in the Shire.
"Follow me," Ms. Coon instructed with a curt smile before turning and heading towards the elaborate offices with glass doors.
Merrick took hold of Piper's hand for a brief moment. "Stay here," he told her gravely. "Keep your eyes open, Cousin."
"You too," she replied with a hoarse voice, "Merry." Reluctantly she let go of his hand and he disappeared into a meeting of suits and money, leaving her sitting by the trees.
* * *
They had rested little on what remained of their journey through Moria. Frodo felt too apprehensive about the presence of orcs to close his eyes and Sally fed off of what energy her adrenalin rush had given her.
Frodo had proven to be a better guide than Boromir and it pained Sally to think of the time used to acquire such experience. What had he done with all those years and what had the years done to him? She remembered the lightness of his body when as Sam, she had borne him up Mount Doom. Now, though he felt no heavier, she knew there was a difference. She felt a presence, a weight that somehow passed through him to her.
She felt the Ring.
A great blast of daylight greeted them as they emerged from the darkened mines. Sally squinted her eyes against the brightness as she surveyed the land before her. The hills, the trees, the river, they all looked familiar but she frowned as her mind struggled to make sense of where everything was. Perhaps her memory was flawed but the world appeared jumbled. Nothing was where she remembered it to be.
Mount Doom was only a day away.
"This is.different," she said at last.
Frodo looked to his destination and shuddered. The last time he had come this close to the Ring's destruction it had nearly torn him apart inside and out, dragging him down with its unbelievable weight and tormenting his mind with its evil. But now it seemed oddly peaceful. His thought went back to a time when he gloried in its power, a time when he really needed it. "I changed much of it," he said, speaking of the land before them and the land that laid in Sam's memory. "I condensed it in a way. I kept only what I needed of Mordor to destroy the Ring." He felt for it for a moment, almost to reassure himself of its presence. Its quiet unsettled him. The action of reaching for it brought a shameful memory to the forefront of his mind. He buried his face in Sally's back. "I can't believe how close I came to using it today."
"But you didn't," Sally said sharply, almost scolding him. "That's what's important. It's best if you don't dwell on what could have been."
Frodo nearly smiled finding great comfort in the familiar tone of the words. "Is that something the Old Gaffer told you?" he asked.
"Beats me," Sally responded. She brought to life the smile that didn't meet her companion's face. "I wouldn't be surprised if the words were your own."
She stopped and began to cough. She only paused for a step before she continued. Frodo tried not to worry at the action and he said nothing. They had just left Moria. Coughing was a natural reaction to the change in the air. He rested his head against her and listened to her breathing. Coughing was normal. The sound her lungs made as they dragged air forcefully into themselves was not. They needed to stop. They needed to rest. Frodo only hoped that Sally wouldn't be too stubborn to listen.
TBC in Chapter Sixteen: The Mirror of the Soul, Part Two
Go read it.
Author's note at the end.
"Hostile Takeover"-Chapter Fifteen: The Mirror of the Soul, Part One
Sally caught Frodo's hand. He looked at her in muted surprise. She knew his intentions and would not let him risk further corruption. Most of his awareness remained buried in the rubble. Frodo himself was not surprised. She saw the Ring's reaction. She reached within her coat. The wicked device that would save them from the danger would be her own.
BOOM!! BOOM!! Their small tunnel exploded with sound. An eerie silence followed. All the combatants stood frozen in the moment, jolted into immobility by a new fear, fear of the unknown. Something made that deafening sound. Something killed two orcs, blasting wide holes in their bodies, allowing their dark blood to seep into the ground.
When Sally was ten years old, her uncle took her and her brothers to the shooting range. She remembered how proud she felt when she shot the 22- gauge rifle with the scope. She took fifteen minutes to line up her shot but when she pulled the trigger, she got a bull's-eye. Shooting targets was fun. It was a game of skill and coordination. As a child, she didn't view the guns that were weapons and the guns that you shoot in target practice as the same tools. She had been a skilled marksman for years.
Today she used that talent to kill. Another innocence stripped away by the darkness of her world.
Boromir watched with stunned amusement as the orcs fled the tunnel in terror. However pleased he felt at their departure, a part of him felt their fear. He knew no more of this frightening weapon than they did. He only had the comfort that it would not be used on him. He turned to see Sally slowly lower her arm. In her hand she held a small, dark, metallic object with a curved handle. "You did that?" he asked, disguising the tension he felt with amused astonishment.
"I did that," she replied stiffly. She tucked the gun back into her coat and tried to return her attention back to freeing Frodo. She shook with pent up energy that wanted to be expelled. She felt like she had done something criminal and had yet to be caught. If she had gutted those orcs with a sword she would not have such guilt. Why did the weapon matter and the act didn't? Perhaps it wasn't the weapon after all but where it came from and the fears that brought it there. "You are right to distrust humanity, Master dwarf," she said gravely. "We are not the noble people we once were."
He looked at her and marveled over her continuing ability to surprise him. "Time changes many things," he offered in comfort. He returned to her side to help her with her master.
"Time and death," she muttered bitterly.
Boromir smiled at her wryly. "Don't you have philosophers in your world, Master Samwise? Death is change."
Frodo looked up at the two in disbelief. Most of his senses still believed that he was dreaming. "He calls you 'Sam'?" he asked in a faraway voice.
Sally crouched down near him. Her battered face filled all his view. "That's right, Mister Frodo," she said gently. Sam's words. Her voice. Just like that stolen moment in Andalsnes. Only now the two realities blended together in a perfect amalgam. She was not dreaming this time and neither was he.
"I call him 'Master Boromir'," Sally said referring to the dwarf.
Frodo glanced to the dwarf as his brow furrowed with confusion. The dwarf, for his part, held back with a demeanor of uncertainty as if waiting for some sign of acceptance that only Frodo could give. Frodo paused on the thought, considering the likelihood of the man's presence. Fate had revealed its plan to him slowly, step by step. It had brought Sam back to him. Boromir's return was not any less probable. "I wondered." he said carefully, recalling the pensive young dwarf pleading with his father back at the camp. "You looked familiar."
The dwarf relaxed visibly. "Not quite as familiar as you looked to me, halfling," he said.
Sally took hold of Frodo's arm gently preparing to help him to his feet. "Do you think that you can stand?" she asked, watching him closely for signs of hidden injury.
Frodo accepted her help gratefully, allowing her larger strength to pull him up. "Until just now I had not thought it would ever be possible, but I will try," he said. He leaned into her, feeling his weight transfer easily to her arms. He felt strange seeing Sally from this perspective. Until he had shed his human glamour, he had looked down upon her, sheltered her in his arms, protected her. Now she stood above him, lifting him up like a child. He felt his face flush with embarrassment. Did she feel the differences as he did?
She smiled at him warmly. If she noticed, she did not care. She was Sam. She would be there no matter what. No matter what.
Frodo choked back a sudden tightness in his throat. She wasn't supposed to have found him. "Sally." he said, his voice full of sudden emotion, "why are you here?"
Sally's smile grew deeper. She almost began to laugh and a wonderment appeared in her eyes that reflected Sam so clearly it almost hurt. "I understand everything now," she said. She brought her face close to his and whispered her words like a secret. "I know who I am and it's not an identity. It's a fate, a purpose. Even Gandalf couldn't keep me away."
But they were not alone. Boromir stood near and he felt shamefully excluded from their closeness. He had nothing but the weakness of his former life to blame. "I brought her to you," he said. "When I saw her, I just knew she belonged with you." His mind had tried to piece together some recipe of redemption but he still felt the bile of dissatisfaction. He did not seek forgiveness from the Ringbearer but from himself. A prize he feared he would never be granted.
Frodo recognized the self-inflicted torment that the young dwarf suffered. He took a step closer to offer him some solace but his foot crumpled beneath him. He stumbled forward and Boromir tried to catch him. For a brief moment, Frodo regarded him with great fear and waved off his assistance. He fell to his knees.
Boromir hovered nervously, uncertain of what to do. Perhaps the Ringbearer's forgiveness was just as elusive as his own. "You have no need to fear me, Frodo," he said softly. "I don't want the Ring anymore."
Frodo shook his head guiltily. "Forgive me," he said with sincerity. "I've become paranoid in my old age. The Ring's thrall is not easily overcome."
Sally appeared at his side, ready to pull him back to his feet. "Are you alright, Mr. Frodo?" she asked.
He nodded, giving her a wry smile. "I must have twisted my ankle when I fell through." He reached down and felt his right ankle gingerly. The swelling had become quite evident, leaving him incapable of continuing under his own power. "It won't take my weight," he said.
Sally looked up at the gaping hole above her that had once been a mine tunnel. "From that height you're lucky nothing's broken," she commented. She looked back down at him and knew at once what she had to do. "Don't you worry, Mr. Frodo," she said, forcing cheer into her voice. "I carried you once before. I'll do it again. I imagine this time, it'll be easier."
Frodo could not help but smile. She was ever his Sam.
Faintly from the tunnel above came the sounds of angry voices and metal clashing against metal. Boromir looked up with restrained impatience and gripped his axe tightly. "I can hear them," he said.
"Woton," Frodo said gravely. He had been so deliriously relieved at being found that he had forgotten the tragic predicament of his guides.
"My father," Boromir whispered.
The young dwarf was torn between the duties of his new life and the redemption of his old. The dilemma drove him mad. Honor had placed too many demands on his weary soul.
Frodo reached out and held Boromir's arm. The dwarf met his eyes, unable to conceal his torment. "You have no debt to me, Boromir," the Ringbearer said to him. "Your weakness was not a sin. No one knows that better than I do."
He hesitated. The strain began to weaken. The choice didn't have to be so hard. "I brought her to you," he said again. Perhaps that was all he needed to do.
Frodo took his hand and pulled himself unsteadily to his feet. "For that you have my eternal gratitude," he said.
"And mine," Sally added. "This is a different life with different obligations. Perhaps it's time to let the old life go." Legolas had told her nearly the opposite about herself. The irony of that was a taste she would share with no one. But Boromir's fate was different from her own, with that; his design was different as well.
Boromir accepted their statements for they allowed him to do what he truly desired. "Farewell then," he said. He glanced towards the tunnel where the orcs had disappeared before. This would be his path to find his father and save him if he could. He looked back to Sally and reached out to cup her chin in his hand. "I wish I had seen your face before it met that wall. What a strange twist fate has dealt us," he said softly then added with great seriousness. "You take care of him, Samwise. His quest must succeed."
"I know," she said quietly. "Good-bye."
Without another word, Boromir ran up the tunnel and disappeared into the darkness.
Sally would never see him again.
* * *
At 9:25 a.m. the following morning, Merrick Brandenburg walked through the tinted revolving doors of the City United Bank. To play off of its close proximity to Central Park, this bank's main office was built as an atrium with three willowy trees growing in the center. A fountain with a koi pond lay at their base.
On any other day Merrick would have found the sight breathtaking. The hobbit he was would have delighted at the irony of the scene. Instead of living in among the trees, these people brought the trees to live among them. But irony and marvel were only fleeting thoughts, taking a back seat to the uneasy churning of his stomach and the quickening pace of his heart. He would rather be any place but here. He was frightened.
As he surveyed his surroundings, his eye caught sight of something that sent a note of calm along his jangling nerves. Seated on an ornately carved wooden bench near the koi pond was Piper chewing vulgarly on a candy bar.
He smiled in spite of his fears. So much had happened since he last saw her. In one way everything had changed between them. In another, nothing had changed. "How long have you been here?" he asked as he reached her.
"Long enough to give that security guard ideas," she said nodding to a uniformed guard across the lobby. He watched her suspiciously as she stuffed the uneaten portion of her candy bar into her bag. Piper stood and faced her friend. For a moment, uncertainty crossed her face. She didn't know what to do. They weren't just Merrick and Piper anymore and she wanted to express that. She wanted to cling to him and feel his arms around her. She wanted to weep. She wanted to cheer.
But she just stood there. Stupid, human, foolish pride kept her still. With Frodo it was different. For a moment Piper ceased to exist. She also wasn't in a bank crowded with people. Pippin would never have fallen victim to embarrassment.
Finally, she just hugged him. Nothing rich with emotion but simple, warm and human. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever show up," she said softly. "I almost called."
"I have an appointment at 9:30," Merrick said into her hair which smelled faintly of smoke. He wondered briefly where she had spent the night. He parted from her before his emotions got the better of him. He pushed a smile past stinging eyes. "Is this the work of fate?" he asked.
Piper wiped away an errant tear and looked away. "If fate is one of Frodo's accountants at Shire Publishing," she replied with a humor that didn't quite make it into her voice. "I gave up on fate yesterday afternoon and started making phone calls."
"Mister Brandenburg?" a petite young woman wearing a dark blue, pinstriped suit broke in with a not-too-subtle tap to Merrick's shoulder.
"Yes?" he replied turning to her with politeness.
"I'm Karen Coon," she said, giving Piper a sidelong glance before returning to her official manner. "We have an appointment.?"
Merrick smiled weakly. "Of course." He had a job to do, a mission to help Frodo in as foreign of a fashion anyone could ever conceive of in the Shire.
"Follow me," Ms. Coon instructed with a curt smile before turning and heading towards the elaborate offices with glass doors.
Merrick took hold of Piper's hand for a brief moment. "Stay here," he told her gravely. "Keep your eyes open, Cousin."
"You too," she replied with a hoarse voice, "Merry." Reluctantly she let go of his hand and he disappeared into a meeting of suits and money, leaving her sitting by the trees.
* * *
They had rested little on what remained of their journey through Moria. Frodo felt too apprehensive about the presence of orcs to close his eyes and Sally fed off of what energy her adrenalin rush had given her.
Frodo had proven to be a better guide than Boromir and it pained Sally to think of the time used to acquire such experience. What had he done with all those years and what had the years done to him? She remembered the lightness of his body when as Sam, she had borne him up Mount Doom. Now, though he felt no heavier, she knew there was a difference. She felt a presence, a weight that somehow passed through him to her.
She felt the Ring.
A great blast of daylight greeted them as they emerged from the darkened mines. Sally squinted her eyes against the brightness as she surveyed the land before her. The hills, the trees, the river, they all looked familiar but she frowned as her mind struggled to make sense of where everything was. Perhaps her memory was flawed but the world appeared jumbled. Nothing was where she remembered it to be.
Mount Doom was only a day away.
"This is.different," she said at last.
Frodo looked to his destination and shuddered. The last time he had come this close to the Ring's destruction it had nearly torn him apart inside and out, dragging him down with its unbelievable weight and tormenting his mind with its evil. But now it seemed oddly peaceful. His thought went back to a time when he gloried in its power, a time when he really needed it. "I changed much of it," he said, speaking of the land before them and the land that laid in Sam's memory. "I condensed it in a way. I kept only what I needed of Mordor to destroy the Ring." He felt for it for a moment, almost to reassure himself of its presence. Its quiet unsettled him. The action of reaching for it brought a shameful memory to the forefront of his mind. He buried his face in Sally's back. "I can't believe how close I came to using it today."
"But you didn't," Sally said sharply, almost scolding him. "That's what's important. It's best if you don't dwell on what could have been."
Frodo nearly smiled finding great comfort in the familiar tone of the words. "Is that something the Old Gaffer told you?" he asked.
"Beats me," Sally responded. She brought to life the smile that didn't meet her companion's face. "I wouldn't be surprised if the words were your own."
She stopped and began to cough. She only paused for a step before she continued. Frodo tried not to worry at the action and he said nothing. They had just left Moria. Coughing was a natural reaction to the change in the air. He rested his head against her and listened to her breathing. Coughing was normal. The sound her lungs made as they dragged air forcefully into themselves was not. They needed to stop. They needed to rest. Frodo only hoped that Sally wouldn't be too stubborn to listen.
TBC in Chapter Sixteen: The Mirror of the Soul, Part Two
Go read it.