"Frodo. Frodo."
The tent was dark, lit only by the warm glimmering lights of a few candles.
"Frodo. Frodo Baggins."
The healer was bent over, his white robes danced in an array of shadows as the light glinted off the many folds. All the shadows in the tent were exaggerated by the movement of the candle as Envin slowly moved it left and right in front of his patient's face repeating his name over and over.
"Frodo.."
The flame flickered and was yet unheeded by the form in front of Envin, staring unseeingly into nothingness. His head was cocked slightly to the side and his face was unreadable, a blank portrait of a solemn creature. He was as still as a statue, carved so delicately and fair. His eyes were blank and yet so powerful, empty and shining as the lights of stars. His pale lips were parted slightly as if caught in a slight gasp but his breathing was so steady he did not look alive in the least bit. The candle light ran across his fair face and yet there was no movement. No sign of recognition could be seen across his sad features and he seemed to see past it beyond this world into darkness and nothing. Face as placid and calm as that of a still, shallow pool. His brow was slightly creased and troubled and he seemed dozing, caught in a world between dreams and waking.
"Trapped," murmured Envin.
Somewhere in the monotony of this slow mesmerizing dance the healer gave up with a loud sigh. He lowered the candle and used his free hand to brush aside an offending tendril of chestnut hair that found its way in front of Frodo's turbid face. His expression was cloudy and Envin examined it another moment.
"There is beauty in you, Ring-bearer," he whispered then shook his head. He was young and learned healing from his father since before he could stand and here he was, called amongst the best healers of the land to treat the savior of Middle-Earth and he could do nothing. And if his father heard him speaking such to his betters, yet he could not take his eyes off of the somber figure. It was as if someone had painted such a creature in the warmest tones of murky oils and he came to be, yet without life or mind. Just a painting, a beautiful painting, and there was no hope for such a witless creature.
He was propped against the bed, hands limp at his sides, so fair those hands were, the right wrapped in many bandages. His thin frame seemed so fragile, as a porcelain doll draped in grey robes that were much too big for such a tiny frame. His porcelain face, soft and fair, marred with the shadows of past pains and burdens. Eyes lit with a pale glitter and a halo of dark curls framing such beauty as they peered around the white strips of the head bandage. Simple as a doll, with beauty that could not be made by the hands of men or elves.
Envin found that tears had wet his cheeks and he quickly wiped them away on his robes and continued to gaze in wonder at this dismal creature. Frodo's eyes never returned to focus nor did they move to glance about the room, they were fixed on something that was not there....as they had been for many a day.
Envin sighed and blew out the candle. "He is gone."
~~~Back on Mount Doom~~~
The mountain tore forth in a rain of ash and flame as the earth and sky crumbled together. There was darkness and a blinding pain as Frodo could remember being torn in so many directions he just wanted to cry out and be left for dead. He could remember standing on the mount and no more. There was something inside of him. A wire pulled too taut until it finally snapped and the world shattered around him. There was no more world. Thoughts and consciousness and reality bled together in Frodo's mind and he felt himself fall back into darkness. He could feel the power torn away from him as he fought tooth and nail to keep it. Now both sanity and insanity fought for the Ring. If it were lost he would break. His mind would be broken he needed it now to both keep the sanity and insanity alive. But he was not strong enough. Some part of him was the slightest bit too slow or some part of him was the slightest bit too weak or maybe there was some virtue left in his broken, soulless body. Some tiny shred that held him back though he did not know it. That still wanted the Ring destroyed and for it he would have been thankful. He would have been grateful to die, if he could distinguish anything any longer. Darkness bled with light. Good with evil. There was nothing left for him. He felt his broken body being lifted. It hurt, he cried out but some sadistic part of him was glad. Some morbid part of him was happy when he hit that wall, when he felt the force of the blow to his head, when he heard his very own bone snap. He could die now.
After all the fabric of his universe was rent and bleeding, until the very shreds of his identity were burned, a war still waged in his mind. The sanity against the insanity in one final battle. The monster that the Ring created would die and he knew it.
"You've failed, Gollum!" Frodo shouted triumphantly.
"We will die, Frodo love, oh yes we cannot escape it. We will die. But you, beloved, you do not think we would leave you and let you live. Oh no!"
Something gripped Frodo then and he was bound. His fearful eyes looked straight at the monster that he had fought against for so long. And the black rags were torn down and the evil Gollum creature had all but disappeared. Frodo's eyes widened in horror and he shrieked at seeing what his true foe really was. Before him stood a small creature, rather thin, fair skin, and dark chestnut curls. His wild blue eyes shown with utter insanity and the crazed smirk never daunted. Frodo cowered in fear of this creature.
He found himself being gripped by the neck and pulled forward. "I condemn you, Frodo Baggins to be forever imprisoned in the darkest confines of! Your! Own! Mind!"
"You're- you're-"
"I am you, wretch!" And the creature backhanded Frodo with all its might. He leaned closer and smirked maliciously. "We are all our own worst enemies, Frodo love." He whispered with an ominous hiss that made all of Frodo shiver and quake with fear.
Quickly, Frodo's hands shot out to stay the raging beast. He looked up with agonized eyes and screamed, "Cuio nin mellon! Im wanwa na inwisti! A uume nyenye ten nin!" And he could hold the beast no longer. He was thrown back down the darkest depths of his own mind, from which there is no escape, and he was forced to despair.
~~~
"Frodo. Frodo."
Silence.
"Frodo. Frodo."
The healer was waving the candle slowly once more. He almost cried out for joy and sorrow when he saw a reaction. The hobbit did not blink, nor did his expression change, nor did his eyes become more focussed. But a slow tear was glimmering down his porcelain face. Envin frowned again. This could mean nothing. He sighed. Frodo was not reacting to the light. Whatever the tear was from it must be whatever he is experiencing in his prison. The vacant face had not changed and Envin continued his exasperating duty always clinging to hope that the Ring-bearer might, one day, return to their world.
He sighed, lowering the candle, "It is no use. He is broken." He ran his hand along the outline of Frodo's face and looked upon him in pity. "Must you, hero of heroes live a life in ignorance?" Envin let his hand drop and studied the vacant eyes once more. "It is of no use. He is simple."
There was a slight sob behind him and Envin spun around. He saw three small figures framed in the sunlight as the tent flap was opened. One fell to the ground and wept the other two tried to console him. Envin's jaw dropped open. The other Ring-bearer had awakened!
A/N..... you should really read "Webs of Madness" before this or you won't understand much.
The tent was dark, lit only by the warm glimmering lights of a few candles.
"Frodo. Frodo Baggins."
The healer was bent over, his white robes danced in an array of shadows as the light glinted off the many folds. All the shadows in the tent were exaggerated by the movement of the candle as Envin slowly moved it left and right in front of his patient's face repeating his name over and over.
"Frodo.."
The flame flickered and was yet unheeded by the form in front of Envin, staring unseeingly into nothingness. His head was cocked slightly to the side and his face was unreadable, a blank portrait of a solemn creature. He was as still as a statue, carved so delicately and fair. His eyes were blank and yet so powerful, empty and shining as the lights of stars. His pale lips were parted slightly as if caught in a slight gasp but his breathing was so steady he did not look alive in the least bit. The candle light ran across his fair face and yet there was no movement. No sign of recognition could be seen across his sad features and he seemed to see past it beyond this world into darkness and nothing. Face as placid and calm as that of a still, shallow pool. His brow was slightly creased and troubled and he seemed dozing, caught in a world between dreams and waking.
"Trapped," murmured Envin.
Somewhere in the monotony of this slow mesmerizing dance the healer gave up with a loud sigh. He lowered the candle and used his free hand to brush aside an offending tendril of chestnut hair that found its way in front of Frodo's turbid face. His expression was cloudy and Envin examined it another moment.
"There is beauty in you, Ring-bearer," he whispered then shook his head. He was young and learned healing from his father since before he could stand and here he was, called amongst the best healers of the land to treat the savior of Middle-Earth and he could do nothing. And if his father heard him speaking such to his betters, yet he could not take his eyes off of the somber figure. It was as if someone had painted such a creature in the warmest tones of murky oils and he came to be, yet without life or mind. Just a painting, a beautiful painting, and there was no hope for such a witless creature.
He was propped against the bed, hands limp at his sides, so fair those hands were, the right wrapped in many bandages. His thin frame seemed so fragile, as a porcelain doll draped in grey robes that were much too big for such a tiny frame. His porcelain face, soft and fair, marred with the shadows of past pains and burdens. Eyes lit with a pale glitter and a halo of dark curls framing such beauty as they peered around the white strips of the head bandage. Simple as a doll, with beauty that could not be made by the hands of men or elves.
Envin found that tears had wet his cheeks and he quickly wiped them away on his robes and continued to gaze in wonder at this dismal creature. Frodo's eyes never returned to focus nor did they move to glance about the room, they were fixed on something that was not there....as they had been for many a day.
Envin sighed and blew out the candle. "He is gone."
~~~Back on Mount Doom~~~
The mountain tore forth in a rain of ash and flame as the earth and sky crumbled together. There was darkness and a blinding pain as Frodo could remember being torn in so many directions he just wanted to cry out and be left for dead. He could remember standing on the mount and no more. There was something inside of him. A wire pulled too taut until it finally snapped and the world shattered around him. There was no more world. Thoughts and consciousness and reality bled together in Frodo's mind and he felt himself fall back into darkness. He could feel the power torn away from him as he fought tooth and nail to keep it. Now both sanity and insanity fought for the Ring. If it were lost he would break. His mind would be broken he needed it now to both keep the sanity and insanity alive. But he was not strong enough. Some part of him was the slightest bit too slow or some part of him was the slightest bit too weak or maybe there was some virtue left in his broken, soulless body. Some tiny shred that held him back though he did not know it. That still wanted the Ring destroyed and for it he would have been thankful. He would have been grateful to die, if he could distinguish anything any longer. Darkness bled with light. Good with evil. There was nothing left for him. He felt his broken body being lifted. It hurt, he cried out but some sadistic part of him was glad. Some morbid part of him was happy when he hit that wall, when he felt the force of the blow to his head, when he heard his very own bone snap. He could die now.
After all the fabric of his universe was rent and bleeding, until the very shreds of his identity were burned, a war still waged in his mind. The sanity against the insanity in one final battle. The monster that the Ring created would die and he knew it.
"You've failed, Gollum!" Frodo shouted triumphantly.
"We will die, Frodo love, oh yes we cannot escape it. We will die. But you, beloved, you do not think we would leave you and let you live. Oh no!"
Something gripped Frodo then and he was bound. His fearful eyes looked straight at the monster that he had fought against for so long. And the black rags were torn down and the evil Gollum creature had all but disappeared. Frodo's eyes widened in horror and he shrieked at seeing what his true foe really was. Before him stood a small creature, rather thin, fair skin, and dark chestnut curls. His wild blue eyes shown with utter insanity and the crazed smirk never daunted. Frodo cowered in fear of this creature.
He found himself being gripped by the neck and pulled forward. "I condemn you, Frodo Baggins to be forever imprisoned in the darkest confines of! Your! Own! Mind!"
"You're- you're-"
"I am you, wretch!" And the creature backhanded Frodo with all its might. He leaned closer and smirked maliciously. "We are all our own worst enemies, Frodo love." He whispered with an ominous hiss that made all of Frodo shiver and quake with fear.
Quickly, Frodo's hands shot out to stay the raging beast. He looked up with agonized eyes and screamed, "Cuio nin mellon! Im wanwa na inwisti! A uume nyenye ten nin!" And he could hold the beast no longer. He was thrown back down the darkest depths of his own mind, from which there is no escape, and he was forced to despair.
~~~
"Frodo. Frodo."
Silence.
"Frodo. Frodo."
The healer was waving the candle slowly once more. He almost cried out for joy and sorrow when he saw a reaction. The hobbit did not blink, nor did his expression change, nor did his eyes become more focussed. But a slow tear was glimmering down his porcelain face. Envin frowned again. This could mean nothing. He sighed. Frodo was not reacting to the light. Whatever the tear was from it must be whatever he is experiencing in his prison. The vacant face had not changed and Envin continued his exasperating duty always clinging to hope that the Ring-bearer might, one day, return to their world.
He sighed, lowering the candle, "It is no use. He is broken." He ran his hand along the outline of Frodo's face and looked upon him in pity. "Must you, hero of heroes live a life in ignorance?" Envin let his hand drop and studied the vacant eyes once more. "It is of no use. He is simple."
There was a slight sob behind him and Envin spun around. He saw three small figures framed in the sunlight as the tent flap was opened. One fell to the ground and wept the other two tried to console him. Envin's jaw dropped open. The other Ring-bearer had awakened!
A/N..... you should really read "Webs of Madness" before this or you won't understand much.