Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR or any of the characters associated with it, they are the works of JRR Tolkien.
This is just a little one-off fic which I decided to write very early in the morning so please forgive any grammar mistakes!
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It grows heavier. Every step I take towards the Cracks of Doom makes it grow heavier. It struggles against me, trying to get to its master. For every step I take takes me closer to saving middle-earth, but also takes me into great danger. I am in the heart of Mordor, land of the enemy. I must fulfil my quest, and destroy it, although every mile we travel it gets harder to resist the temptation of the Ring. It is always before my eyes, a bright wheel of fire. Every so often my hands stray toward it, almost as if the Ring had some kind of magnetic force towards them. That is when Sam will hold my hands for me, help me fight it. Sam is a constant comfort to me. He still sees hope, when all is black. Without him I would not have made it past Cirith Ungol. He lets me have his share of the water. He thinks I do not know, but our water and food are running short. Even if we make it there, we will never get back. Together we will die on the slopes of Mount Doom.
Sméagol-Gollum still shadows us, haunting our every step. He is after the Ring, his precious - not just his precious, but mine also. For the Ring is precious to me, and the longer I bear it the more I cannot bear to destroy it. At night I hear whispers, how great I could be if I took the Ring for my own - Frodo the Great, master of all middle-earth, the true Lord of the Ring. Have I not borne it for this long? Why should I not take it for my own? I have the strength, the task was bequeathed to me, mine, my own!
My hands wanted the ring then. Sam helped me, dear Sam who would come with me to the ends of the world. But he wants to go back to the Shire, to see all our friends again. He wants a settled life. I do not think I will be settled again, even if I do survive through the war. I do not think I will make it to the Cracks of Doom. My strength is failing me, even the elvish waybread, lembas, will not bring it back.
I must reach the top. I feel an invisible force pulling me up, giving me strength, making me complete the final stage of our journey. I have heard the call. Tomorrow the sun will dawn on a new middle-earth, free of evil.
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Bit weird and a bit short, I know! Please r/r!!