Title: Coil 1/?
Chapter Title: The Beginning
Author: Mystical Floyd
E-mail: Mystical Floyd
Characters: Frodo
Warnings: Angsty, Frodo thinking, not really a chap more like a Prologue.
Rating: G
Summary: Frodo lies in bed and thinks of all he has lost and the price he must now pay for his failure.
Complete: 1/?
Disclaimer: I do not own them, I only molest them for my own sick pleasures.
A/n: This is overdone, but I needed to get Frodo out of my head, its not healthy.
Thanks to someone special. The experience wasn't a happy one, but in a sense it made me understand things a little better. Thank you for the things you taught me, even if you didn't know that you did.
~::The Beginning::~
He sat staring at the wall. Amazed at the detail of a simple wall. There were tree vines, and different sorts of flowers, he thought that he could imagine that there were fairies amongst those flowers, but he couldn't make himself see it.
That wall had been one of the few things that was keeping him from going mad the past week that he had been awake. Concentrating on nothing but the patterns, adding little details into it and making yourself see it. If he could make himself see fairies on the wall...why couldn't he make himself see an escape from this...
What was the word?
No, it couldn't be described by any word that he new. And he knew words, no sound or written pattern on a piece of paper could say it. I was...a coil. A coil of nothing but longing and regret and remembrance. Remembrance that led to anger, the anger led to wanting but the wanting led to despair, and knowing that the longing was wrong, evil, not something that he wanted. He couldn't want it...but he did. It was all he had had, and now it was gone.
The despair then led to the nothing. He couldn't think of anything that could come after the despair. And thus his coil went on.
Sometimes, when people tried to talk to him, it gave him something to think about. Gave him something to examine. He liked to go through what they said word by word and translate it into different languages. It was amazing to him how each language was beautifully different it its own way.
He closed his eyes, and imagined the wall-the ceiling again, only this time it moved ever so slowly down. Cutting off the light, and going so far down that he could feel it on his nose. Down, down, down. Down onto him, down into him. Down to the floor until he was resting on it.
If you could imagine this, he could imagine getting better. Because that's all life was; a person's will and imagination.
Did he have a will anymore? He had an imagination, but he couldn't will himself to stop wanting. He was a slave to it now, the wanting, and he knew it. He was a slave to the regret and the sorrow and the knowing that, in the end, he failed. He had failed the quest, he hadn't destroyed, Gollum had. Not him.
And that's what killed him the most. That when he had the chance, he didn't destroy the one thing that destroyed him, he let it take him. He didn't have a will anymore. He didn't have the right to have a will. He let it destroy him and he gave up the chance, and now he had to live with it.
He had to stop thinking about it. If he never faced it, maybe he could live without a will. Only with an imagination.
He opened his eyes, and this time, he made himself see the fairies on the wall.
TBC
Floyd: So how is it? Frodo in character or not? Want me to continue it? Whether or not I continue it is up to you and if you review or not so please give me your opinion of it! Thanks.
Chapter Title: The Beginning
Author: Mystical Floyd
E-mail: Mystical Floyd
Characters: Frodo
Warnings: Angsty, Frodo thinking, not really a chap more like a Prologue.
Rating: G
Summary: Frodo lies in bed and thinks of all he has lost and the price he must now pay for his failure.
Complete: 1/?
Disclaimer: I do not own them, I only molest them for my own sick pleasures.
A/n: This is overdone, but I needed to get Frodo out of my head, its not healthy.
Thanks to someone special. The experience wasn't a happy one, but in a sense it made me understand things a little better. Thank you for the things you taught me, even if you didn't know that you did.
~::The Beginning::~
He sat staring at the wall. Amazed at the detail of a simple wall. There were tree vines, and different sorts of flowers, he thought that he could imagine that there were fairies amongst those flowers, but he couldn't make himself see it.
That wall had been one of the few things that was keeping him from going mad the past week that he had been awake. Concentrating on nothing but the patterns, adding little details into it and making yourself see it. If he could make himself see fairies on the wall...why couldn't he make himself see an escape from this...
What was the word?
No, it couldn't be described by any word that he new. And he knew words, no sound or written pattern on a piece of paper could say it. I was...a coil. A coil of nothing but longing and regret and remembrance. Remembrance that led to anger, the anger led to wanting but the wanting led to despair, and knowing that the longing was wrong, evil, not something that he wanted. He couldn't want it...but he did. It was all he had had, and now it was gone.
The despair then led to the nothing. He couldn't think of anything that could come after the despair. And thus his coil went on.
Sometimes, when people tried to talk to him, it gave him something to think about. Gave him something to examine. He liked to go through what they said word by word and translate it into different languages. It was amazing to him how each language was beautifully different it its own way.
He closed his eyes, and imagined the wall-the ceiling again, only this time it moved ever so slowly down. Cutting off the light, and going so far down that he could feel it on his nose. Down, down, down. Down onto him, down into him. Down to the floor until he was resting on it.
If you could imagine this, he could imagine getting better. Because that's all life was; a person's will and imagination.
Did he have a will anymore? He had an imagination, but he couldn't will himself to stop wanting. He was a slave to it now, the wanting, and he knew it. He was a slave to the regret and the sorrow and the knowing that, in the end, he failed. He had failed the quest, he hadn't destroyed, Gollum had. Not him.
And that's what killed him the most. That when he had the chance, he didn't destroy the one thing that destroyed him, he let it take him. He didn't have a will anymore. He didn't have the right to have a will. He let it destroy him and he gave up the chance, and now he had to live with it.
He had to stop thinking about it. If he never faced it, maybe he could live without a will. Only with an imagination.
He opened his eyes, and this time, he made himself see the fairies on the wall.
TBC
Floyd: So how is it? Frodo in character or not? Want me to continue it? Whether or not I continue it is up to you and if you review or not so please give me your opinion of it! Thanks.
