Disclaimer: AU Story. Based on Shirebound's wonderful drabble, "Grace";
much thanks for her permission. The characters and settings continue to
belong to Tolkien. But the plot is mine and I very much hope that you enjoy
it. ^^
Skye12: I know, I am dreadful at story progression. In every sense of the word. But ya know, I try. Mad!Frodo should be a little closer to Mordor now. After his nightmare and hearing Sam voice his doubts, not to mention the loss of the Ring, I reckon Frodo is just beginning to lose touch with reality. Forgive me for slow updates; I cannot even begin to compete with your marvellous superb wonderful influx of Imprisoned chapters *bows before you*
Rabidsamfan: You love guilt-ridden Gandalf? Fantastic! I really enjoy messing with Gandalf's character. Please do read Shirebound's drabble. It is so simple and yet so beautiful.
Bookworm2000: That's OK, FF.net is very weird and often Fido eats reviews. I know; Gandalf is going to be weeping like a girl when I've finished with him *smiles evilly and sends Gandalf cowering into a corner*
ShireElf: So pleased you're enjoying this so far! Hope it continues to be such a delight; your review melted my insides, thank you!
~ Chapter Thirteen ~
His hands suddenly ran out of mountain. To his left, there curved away the final peak of rocky precipice but no more pathways or tracks for him to follow. Frodo swore under his breath. He had to get through. He must, he must, he must... his eyes fell upon a sliver of a ledge stretching out before him. It seemed to be the only way across, although Frodo eyed the black tear of crevasse below it with deep misgivings. Even through his veiled single-mindedness, he could still see the serious risk it posed. But there was hardly an option of going back. He verified this with a quick glance over his shoulder to where Ithilien was half hidden by looming cliffs. He reached forward awkwardly and stepped out. The ledge held. He moved slowly, almost on his toes, inching his way over the fissured granite, bracing himself against the mountainside. Then suddenly, he was across, and the ledge widened out and returned to the path. Frodo stopped to still his racing heart and almost choked in the process, his eyes falling upon the land beyond his mountain.
Whole slabs of earth lurched up from their places, so that the land looked like a piece of smashed crockery. Smoke was still billowing out from various cracks and crevices and here and there, fires were lingering on what remained of the weeds and shrubs at the fringes of Mordor. Distantly, through a cloud of noxious fumes, Frodo could just make out the silhouette of Orodruin itself. Mount Doom had listed predominantly to its right, so that lava dribbled out over its charred crater and oozed into a cooling heap that spread across about an acre before giving up and letting itself be sucked down into the black pits encircling the mountain. It was eerily quiet and the hobbit's ears rang unpleasantly. He recalled always the violent shaking of the ground that had constantly grated the stones and sifted the ashes into a cacophony of noise. All that was left seemed to be a dull rumbling, like that of dying thunder.
"So you see it now?"
Frodo yelped and spun round, teetering once more over the gorge. Standing on the shelf from where he had just come, Gandalf stood like some white mercenary. One hand rested lightly on his belt and the other clutched his staff, propped by his side. He was staring at the hobbit with a mix of relief and disappointment; an expression that only Gandalf could really master. It was a look plain enough to Frodo, who backed fearfully away, steps yet leading him inexorably to the Black Land. Somehow, his mind could not register the wizard's presence, could not comprehend the entirety of him, as if he was too complicated a-problem to comprehend.
"What did you say?" he asked hoarsely.
"Can you see what has become of what you seek?"
There was a stiff, aching silence, broken only by that low drone of failing landscape. Frodo's eyes flickered sideways and he licked his lips.
"I know what I see," he answered guardedly, "I understand it. Why have you come?"
"Oh, it is purely curiosity that drew me. You, however, seem to be here on some errand. With purpose of sorts."
Frodo felt a stab of anger. Gandalf was playing with him! Speaking like he would to a child!
"Yes, a purpose," he retorted, with diffident forcefulness, "And you shall not hinder me."
"Oho, is that the case?" Gandalf chortled and leaned on his staff in a casual stance, as if dealing with the pettiest of matters. "You forget," he said, "That you are a small, insignificant hobbit with very little in the way of strength. And, I might add, your use of logic against me is quite shaming. You use no evidence to support your actions, nor do you give reason to your threats. You disappoint me, Master Baggins!"
"Very well. It is my choice to be here no longer. My reason: I have a purpose. My intent: to find what I seek. There. Be content with that!" Frodo spat. His eyes glinted with madness. He turned abruptly and started on down the track once more. But he was stopped within moments by a wall of sorts, but one he could see. He struggled as the force came around him, sealing him onto a patch of rock and gently turning him back around to meet the wizard's scrutiny.
"Let me go!" he cried.
"Frodo, it is not me..."
"Let me go! Let me go!" the hobbit screamed. But instead, his feet drew him back to the crevasse and across its crumbling side until he stood in the dazzling white shadow of Gandalf.
"There is sense left in you still, Frodo. That is all that called you back," the wizard said quietly. He extended his hand and cautiously took the small fingers in his own. "It is gone. Even you can see that."
Frodo tore his hand away in a fury and he had to catch himself from falling.
"No! Just because you say it, that doesn't make it true! It lives, I can feel It inside me." He grabbed his companion's arm and pressed the palm to his chest. "You can feel It, can't you? Two heartbeats! It's there! Somewhere waiting in Mordor. I can find It and then be rid of It for good. Well? Speak! Say what you feel!"
Gandalf was staring at his hand resting on Frodo's quivering breastbone, feeling one heartbeat and one alone. The charade had returned the beloved hobbit back to him, coaxed the reason back into his mind, but he had no idea what the Ringbearer was really feeling or thinking.
"Frodo, I am sorry," he whispered.
The blue eyes widened. It was too much for Gandalf. When he looked into those eyes, he saw only reflections of gold and of fire. The heartbeat that Frodo felt would be nothing more than an echo of that seductive song. It wound about Frodo's soul and melded it into a burnished circle. And Gandalf knew his own lie. He had wanted it, needed it to be somebody else's fault. But the wraiths had not put the Ring into Frodo's care. No orc had sent him off without direction or clear instruction. Not even Sauron had made it His task to put him unaided at the very lip of the Cracks of Doom.
"I have sent you to your doom," he murmured, voice breaking, "I have pretended, I know. I have watched you and done nothing for fear of what you will make of me. For the fear that you will always think I abandoned you. And who is to say I have not?"
Frodo had not blinked during this time. He was watching in fascination, willing himself to look away but, like his own logic carrying him over the crevasse, he seemed to have no such power. Instead, he opened his mouth and fumbled with words to say, with doubts constantly pecking at his tongue even as he did;
"I say."
Gandalf was quiet. He pulled back a little, hand removed from Frodo's heart but the hobbit quickly halted him, clasping him at the wrist.
"I say," he said, more determinedly, "You sent me no where. You did not speak at the Council, did you? It was my choice. It was my burden. It still is...unless..." here, he appeared to falter. He felt his insides give a sudden icy tug as he remembered Aragorn's hesitant words and Gandalf's own just a few minutes ago. He could feel a dark realisation beginning to form. "I shall never be rid of the Ring, shall I." It no longer held any question. If perhaps, It had survived, as he wished, then he could simply pick It up, hold It one last time and then cast It away and be himself once more. But the heartbeat was not failing. Intertwining with his own pulse and beating against his ribs just as he said. "I will never be able to let It go."
They walked in silence to the edge of the mountain. In the dark, Frodo thought he could make out a white shape on the rocky ledge, waiting patiently on the shattered pathway.
"I called him," Gandalf whispered, "I called him to bear two riders. Have you seen all you need to?"
"Yes," Frodo answered in an exhaled breath. He did not once dare look back over his shoulder. And if he closed his eyes while they rode back down, he thought, perhaps...perhaps he could forget the Ring for good. He was startled then when Gandalf, stooped to lift him onto Shadowfax's back, paused, a look of pure horror on his face.
"I asked him to bear two riders."
"Yes?"
"Two is us. Three is Sam..."
~ Forgive me; I'm so sorry to leave updates so late but I've been down in hobbit country, New Zealand. I have written things! Honest! And I'll be good and post them soon. Thank you so much for your reviews while I've been away ^^
Skye12: I know, I am dreadful at story progression. In every sense of the word. But ya know, I try. Mad!Frodo should be a little closer to Mordor now. After his nightmare and hearing Sam voice his doubts, not to mention the loss of the Ring, I reckon Frodo is just beginning to lose touch with reality. Forgive me for slow updates; I cannot even begin to compete with your marvellous superb wonderful influx of Imprisoned chapters *bows before you*
Rabidsamfan: You love guilt-ridden Gandalf? Fantastic! I really enjoy messing with Gandalf's character. Please do read Shirebound's drabble. It is so simple and yet so beautiful.
Bookworm2000: That's OK, FF.net is very weird and often Fido eats reviews. I know; Gandalf is going to be weeping like a girl when I've finished with him *smiles evilly and sends Gandalf cowering into a corner*
ShireElf: So pleased you're enjoying this so far! Hope it continues to be such a delight; your review melted my insides, thank you!
~ Chapter Thirteen ~
His hands suddenly ran out of mountain. To his left, there curved away the final peak of rocky precipice but no more pathways or tracks for him to follow. Frodo swore under his breath. He had to get through. He must, he must, he must... his eyes fell upon a sliver of a ledge stretching out before him. It seemed to be the only way across, although Frodo eyed the black tear of crevasse below it with deep misgivings. Even through his veiled single-mindedness, he could still see the serious risk it posed. But there was hardly an option of going back. He verified this with a quick glance over his shoulder to where Ithilien was half hidden by looming cliffs. He reached forward awkwardly and stepped out. The ledge held. He moved slowly, almost on his toes, inching his way over the fissured granite, bracing himself against the mountainside. Then suddenly, he was across, and the ledge widened out and returned to the path. Frodo stopped to still his racing heart and almost choked in the process, his eyes falling upon the land beyond his mountain.
Whole slabs of earth lurched up from their places, so that the land looked like a piece of smashed crockery. Smoke was still billowing out from various cracks and crevices and here and there, fires were lingering on what remained of the weeds and shrubs at the fringes of Mordor. Distantly, through a cloud of noxious fumes, Frodo could just make out the silhouette of Orodruin itself. Mount Doom had listed predominantly to its right, so that lava dribbled out over its charred crater and oozed into a cooling heap that spread across about an acre before giving up and letting itself be sucked down into the black pits encircling the mountain. It was eerily quiet and the hobbit's ears rang unpleasantly. He recalled always the violent shaking of the ground that had constantly grated the stones and sifted the ashes into a cacophony of noise. All that was left seemed to be a dull rumbling, like that of dying thunder.
"So you see it now?"
Frodo yelped and spun round, teetering once more over the gorge. Standing on the shelf from where he had just come, Gandalf stood like some white mercenary. One hand rested lightly on his belt and the other clutched his staff, propped by his side. He was staring at the hobbit with a mix of relief and disappointment; an expression that only Gandalf could really master. It was a look plain enough to Frodo, who backed fearfully away, steps yet leading him inexorably to the Black Land. Somehow, his mind could not register the wizard's presence, could not comprehend the entirety of him, as if he was too complicated a-problem to comprehend.
"What did you say?" he asked hoarsely.
"Can you see what has become of what you seek?"
There was a stiff, aching silence, broken only by that low drone of failing landscape. Frodo's eyes flickered sideways and he licked his lips.
"I know what I see," he answered guardedly, "I understand it. Why have you come?"
"Oh, it is purely curiosity that drew me. You, however, seem to be here on some errand. With purpose of sorts."
Frodo felt a stab of anger. Gandalf was playing with him! Speaking like he would to a child!
"Yes, a purpose," he retorted, with diffident forcefulness, "And you shall not hinder me."
"Oho, is that the case?" Gandalf chortled and leaned on his staff in a casual stance, as if dealing with the pettiest of matters. "You forget," he said, "That you are a small, insignificant hobbit with very little in the way of strength. And, I might add, your use of logic against me is quite shaming. You use no evidence to support your actions, nor do you give reason to your threats. You disappoint me, Master Baggins!"
"Very well. It is my choice to be here no longer. My reason: I have a purpose. My intent: to find what I seek. There. Be content with that!" Frodo spat. His eyes glinted with madness. He turned abruptly and started on down the track once more. But he was stopped within moments by a wall of sorts, but one he could see. He struggled as the force came around him, sealing him onto a patch of rock and gently turning him back around to meet the wizard's scrutiny.
"Let me go!" he cried.
"Frodo, it is not me..."
"Let me go! Let me go!" the hobbit screamed. But instead, his feet drew him back to the crevasse and across its crumbling side until he stood in the dazzling white shadow of Gandalf.
"There is sense left in you still, Frodo. That is all that called you back," the wizard said quietly. He extended his hand and cautiously took the small fingers in his own. "It is gone. Even you can see that."
Frodo tore his hand away in a fury and he had to catch himself from falling.
"No! Just because you say it, that doesn't make it true! It lives, I can feel It inside me." He grabbed his companion's arm and pressed the palm to his chest. "You can feel It, can't you? Two heartbeats! It's there! Somewhere waiting in Mordor. I can find It and then be rid of It for good. Well? Speak! Say what you feel!"
Gandalf was staring at his hand resting on Frodo's quivering breastbone, feeling one heartbeat and one alone. The charade had returned the beloved hobbit back to him, coaxed the reason back into his mind, but he had no idea what the Ringbearer was really feeling or thinking.
"Frodo, I am sorry," he whispered.
The blue eyes widened. It was too much for Gandalf. When he looked into those eyes, he saw only reflections of gold and of fire. The heartbeat that Frodo felt would be nothing more than an echo of that seductive song. It wound about Frodo's soul and melded it into a burnished circle. And Gandalf knew his own lie. He had wanted it, needed it to be somebody else's fault. But the wraiths had not put the Ring into Frodo's care. No orc had sent him off without direction or clear instruction. Not even Sauron had made it His task to put him unaided at the very lip of the Cracks of Doom.
"I have sent you to your doom," he murmured, voice breaking, "I have pretended, I know. I have watched you and done nothing for fear of what you will make of me. For the fear that you will always think I abandoned you. And who is to say I have not?"
Frodo had not blinked during this time. He was watching in fascination, willing himself to look away but, like his own logic carrying him over the crevasse, he seemed to have no such power. Instead, he opened his mouth and fumbled with words to say, with doubts constantly pecking at his tongue even as he did;
"I say."
Gandalf was quiet. He pulled back a little, hand removed from Frodo's heart but the hobbit quickly halted him, clasping him at the wrist.
"I say," he said, more determinedly, "You sent me no where. You did not speak at the Council, did you? It was my choice. It was my burden. It still is...unless..." here, he appeared to falter. He felt his insides give a sudden icy tug as he remembered Aragorn's hesitant words and Gandalf's own just a few minutes ago. He could feel a dark realisation beginning to form. "I shall never be rid of the Ring, shall I." It no longer held any question. If perhaps, It had survived, as he wished, then he could simply pick It up, hold It one last time and then cast It away and be himself once more. But the heartbeat was not failing. Intertwining with his own pulse and beating against his ribs just as he said. "I will never be able to let It go."
They walked in silence to the edge of the mountain. In the dark, Frodo thought he could make out a white shape on the rocky ledge, waiting patiently on the shattered pathway.
"I called him," Gandalf whispered, "I called him to bear two riders. Have you seen all you need to?"
"Yes," Frodo answered in an exhaled breath. He did not once dare look back over his shoulder. And if he closed his eyes while they rode back down, he thought, perhaps...perhaps he could forget the Ring for good. He was startled then when Gandalf, stooped to lift him onto Shadowfax's back, paused, a look of pure horror on his face.
"I asked him to bear two riders."
"Yes?"
"Two is us. Three is Sam..."
~ Forgive me; I'm so sorry to leave updates so late but I've been down in hobbit country, New Zealand. I have written things! Honest! And I'll be good and post them soon. Thank you so much for your reviews while I've been away ^^