Epilogue

It fell as though time had slowed. The Ring spun through the air, the red glow blazing across its smooth surface. The magma was a yielding surface to land on, but the golden band sunk beneath and was unmade. The creature, Gollum, also disappeared beneath the magma, ever in pursuit of the Ring.

As the Ring hit the magma deep with the Cracks of Doom, Oroduin groaned and the rocks shuddered. The magma began rising, deep within the chasm.

There were yet two Hobbits near the crack. Blood flowed freely from the maimed right hand of the former Ringbearer. Frodo lay breathing heavily, the rocky ground beneath him digging into his dirt smeared face. A crimson pool spread beneath his hand; it would have stained the tattered shirt he wore had it not already been sullied beyond recognition.

Sam ran over to his prostrated master and lifted him into his arms. "Mr. Frodo, can you hear me?" His question was met with silence, and the figure in his arms did not move. Holding the older Hobbit tightly, Sam dashed for the opening of the chamber as the magma continued to rise within.

"Sam..." the voice that spoke was quiet, quiet and terribly strained. "Sam, I... I can see the Shire again. I... remember." Frodo whispered, each word like daggers in his parched throat. His blood fell to the ground like raindrops, trickling amongst the dust. Somehow, he felt only peace, though he could hardly sense anything beyond the pain that coursed through his battered body. Green hills and crystal rivers filled his mind, and clouds floated above. They weren't the ominous, foreboding clouds of this land; they were white, white and fluffy. Clouds you could stare at for hours as they glided through the endless blue sky.

Sam placed Frodo down with utmost care and threw himself down beside him. He was utterly drained of strength. "Well, we did it, Mr. Frodo." Without opening his eyes, Frodo answered him. "Yes, it is done." The lava began to pick up speed as it slid down the slopes of Oroduin, destroying everything in its path, yet setting the scene for life to flourish once again. Deep blue eyes opened, clear and without pain. "I'm glad you are with me, Sam, here at the end of all things." Sam smiled gently. "I wouldn'ta had it any other way." Frodo pushed his body up and embraced his dear friend. "Mayhap we shall end up in tales." He managed to say before he let himself collapse back to the ground.

The molten rock advanced upon the Hobbit's position. Sam curled himself protectively around Frodo. "Just think of the Shire now, Mr. Frodo." His hazel eyes were upon the amber clouds above them. "Just think of it. The flowers'll have bloomed by now and Bag End's garden will be filled with colour..."

Breathing was becoming more of a problem as fumes filled the air. Frodo concentrated on breathing, in, out, in, out, in. Sam was still talking; it was comforting to Frodo, the voice of his friend. The heat from the lava radiated onto him and he felt his consciousness ebbing. The wind picked up suddenly, brown and white obscured Frodo's view of the sky, the Eagles had come. As the mighty birds lifted him in their talons, Frodo gave into the darkness.

"Wake little one." A voice penetrated the haze of Frodo's mind. It was soft, kind, and vaguely familiar. Frodo opened his eyes slowly, waiting for the pain to assail him. It never came. He found himself to be in a large, ornately decorated white room. Beside him on the oversized bed lay Sam. He smiled slightly in his sleep. "Where am I?" He questioned, though it was posed to no one in particular, he seemed to be alone. "You are in Gondor, land of the Kings."

The Hobbit looked around to see where this disembodied voice was coming from. His eyes landed on a women, dressed in black, with long black hair and clear gray eyes. Death had returned to him and she was smiling at him. "Come little one, you have much to see, so much to move on to." She held out her pale hand to the small Hobbit, still smiling as her eyes sparkled. Frodo looked to Sam, still sleeping beside him, though he was no longer asleep. He kissed his friend's forehead. "Goodbye, dear Sam, you shall live a life full of mirth."

After he had done that, he took Death's hand and she lifted him from the bed. "Do not fear, you shall see your friends again." Frodo grinned. "You know, you aren't as bad as we make you out to be." Death looked into his eyes. "And you are a courageous and bold Hobbit. Long shall you live in tales." Then, she drew Frodo closer to herself. Frodo saw a bright flash of light, and the white room had faded and was gone. The thick mist that had surrounded him after the room had disappeared began to thin, and far in front of him, Frodo perceived a far green country. At last, he was truly at peace.

Well, there you have it. This is truly the end of an era for me. I started this over two years ago when I was relatively new to fan fiction. Thanks to all of those who have reviewed and all who have read. I'm going to... sit and... try to think of a new fiction now. –begins to walk off- Now where has my muse gone to?