Title: Weakness
Author: Serpentine Wisdom
Rating: T
Summary: The One Ring has a greater influence over Frodo than anyone believes, but what is the Ring really wants?
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings or any of its characters.
"Blaha" Spoken words
/Blaha/ Thoughts
- Blaha - Memories
'Blaha' The One Ring
It glimmered so beautifully in the pale light of the fullmoon, Frodo felt his heart constrict painfully, he shouldn't have to give it up. It was his, Bilbo had given him it. Hadn't he? Yes, it belonged to Frodo and no one else. It was his.
/My Precious…/
Frodo had a bright, almost feverish, expression in his eyes as he lovingly gazed down on the Ring. He couldn't quite remember when he had become so fixated on it. It was not when he was in the Prancing Pony in Bree; not when the Nazgul attacked nor during the stay in Rivendale; not in the mines of Moria or the woods of Lothlorien.
- "Such a little thing" -
Boromir's words had burned into his heart. He could hardly sleep the night after he and Sam had set out on their own and then he took out the Ring while Sam sleept. There wasn't any harm in doing so, he was merely gazing at it. Boromir's words held a speck of truth. To think that such a small thing could hold so much power, so much darkness. The next night he took it out again and the next night and the one after that and so on. He would stare at it wishing it could give him answers, but the Ring stayed silent.
It was a shame he had to destroy it. Was that really necessary? He could just go into hiding and take the Ring with him or he could throw it in the sea. No that wouldn't work, Lord Elrond had already said it during the council. But had the elven lord spoken truly? Perhaps the elves wanted their three so called untainted rings to be the most powerful? Yes, for if the One was destroyed the Nine would follow and the Seven were already either destroyed or in the hands of the Dark Lord. That would leave only the three.
It seemed he couldn't even trust the first-born. They were just as sneaky and treacherous as the race of men – just as weak. Fools. Couldn't they see that the Ring was too beautiful, too perfect to be allowed to be destroyed.
Then a sudden thought struck Frodo, if he had no intention of casting the Ring into the fires of mount Doom, then why was he traveling to Mordor? As soon as the thought had struck him, it left. And while he clutched the Ring in his closed right fist, he could feel a tiny tendril of blod trickling down between his fingers. For a moment he tried to remember what he had been thinking about but he soon gave up.
Nervously he glanced at the sleeping form of Sam, his most loyal friend. Then Frodo's eyes narrowed in his sickly pale face that was glistening with sweat. Were they really such god friends that Sam would follow him into Mordor? Did Sam's word to Gandalf that he would take care of Frodo truly mean that much too him? No, that could not be. Frodo had always been better friends with Merry and Pippin, Sam was merely a servant he talked to on occasion. That was right, Sam was a servant. A simple, low fellow. He tried to worm his way into Frodo's trust with his 'Yes mister Frodo, No mister Frodo'. Well, this 'mister Frodo' saw right through him.
'Can you trust someone like that? He must be planning some horrible things to do to you once you have done what they ask. Did you not see how he was looking at you? He hates you because he knows you are his better.'
Perhaps it would be better if Sam had a little accident – it was only fair, who knows what horrors Sam Gamgee had been planning for Frodo? Such a vile creature, the world would be better of without him! Slowly Frodo pulled Sting out of its sheat, the blade was a dull gray. Had Sam learned how to hide his evil to the sword or did the blasted thing only react to orcs?
'You would trust an elven blade?'
Of course, Sting is an elven blade! Sam must have been their spy. Why else would the council have let another hobbit join the fellowship. Everyone that had ever met a hobbit knew they were not made for hard battles and perilious journeys. Frodo had been too important to exclude as he was the ring-bearer, but the other hobbits… of what use were they?
'They are merely hobbits. Too small and weak to be important, wouldn't you say?'
Frodo didn't like to think that his own cousins would betray him, not to such vile things as elves and men and dwarves. They must have been influenced somehow. Maybe they had been told that the Ring had a will of its own – what a preposterus idea. Though to be fair he had fallen for that trick himself. Gandalf had him convinced that the Ring wanted back with Sauron – if there even was such a person or thing or whatever they claimed this Sauron person was.
'Kill him, little hobbit. Free the world of such a foul creature!'
Slowly he crept towards Sam. Traitor, traitor, traitor sang his mind at the sleeping figure on the ground. As he raised the sword his breath was uneven and loud. Careful, he reminded himself. Just as he was about to strike, Sam snorted loudly and turned in his sleep to face Frodo. The ring-bearer froze, his heart in his throat.
Mayhaps it was better to leave Sam be, to play along. There was still a long way to Mordor and Sam would surely behave himself until after he thought Frodo had thrown the Ring into the fires. He sheated Sting and went back to his post. Later into the night Sam took over the watch and Frodo layed down with his blankets on the hard ground but he did not sleep – he had found that since he recieved the Ring he had needed very little of it.
Until the wee hours he lay there, staring at nothing until Sam shook his shoulders.
"Wake up mister Frodo, we'd better be going now."
Wearily Frodo made himself ready for another day's journey, hardly noticing his surroundings. When had everything turned so grey? It didn't matter at what he looked, everything except the Ring seemed to be in different shades of gray – dull and uninspiring. His breakfast tasted like ash in his mouth, but he did not complain he merely ate in silence wondering if Sam had dared to poison it or not.
'Father! Help me Father!'Startled Frodo jerked up out of his seat and wildly stared around him. There was no one there, not even Sam – who had gone to take a short bathroom break before the days journey started. Funny, he could have sworn he had heard something.
'Father, why have you abandoned me?'There it was again, a high, mournful cry. Perhaps it was only an animal? Frodo drew Sting out of its sheat, too many strange things had happened as of late he could not trust that this was only an animal.
"Mister Frodo," Frodo quickly turned around as he heard Sam's voice coming from behind him, "why do you have Sting out? Is anything wrong?"
Frodo reluctantly sheated Sting. "No Sam, I just thought I heard something. Come on, we'd better start walking."
'Don't leave me here!'"Did you hear that?" Frodo asked.
Sam looked strangely at Frodo as he walked past him. "I didn't hear anything mister Frodo"
Frodo narrowed his eyes at Sam's back. Was Sam trying to make a fool out of him? There was definitely something out there making all that noise. But he couldn't trust Sam to tell him the truth, could he? Sam was a traitor after all, he could simply be trying to play little mind games with Frodo – trying to fool him into loosing trust in himself. Because Frodo knew he had heard something. But what had it been that could make such a dispairing call – it didn't sound like an animal or an orc, not even like a Nazgul. What could that noise have been made by.
Frodo frowned. What noise? He hadn't heard anything. Then why had he been so convinced that he had? He shook his head violently as if to clear a fog. It was a long way to Mordor but he could still se the red in the sky above it. He shuddered, it always made him uneasy to see proof of Mordor's existance – as if everything bad in the world would disappear if only you managed to not believe in Mordor.
Why was he going to there again?
'Father!'The End.