Disclaimers: I do not own The Lord of the Rings. The Lord of the Rings and other Middle-earth works belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, New Line Cinema, Warner Brothers, Turbine and Standing Stones Games. All other canon material belongs to their respected owners. All original material—original characters, original locations, etc.—belongs to me, the authoress of this fanfiction story.

Inspiration for Chapter 1: "The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King".

Warning! This chapter is Rated T for intense images.

*.*.*

Frodo wept. This vision seemed like a long dream, a never-ending nightmare. He could hardly understand it. The room he was in was at the top of the tower. The Tower of Barad-dûr. Black iron walls circulated the room with an arched ceiling overhead.

The skies were filled with dark clouds roiling in everywhere. Even the floor was made out of black iron. Torches brimming with a fiery orangish reddish glow, mixed with a yellowish tint and hues, filled the room. There was also a spiky black iron throne sitting at one end of the room. And there, seated on this throne was Sauron, only he looked like a Maia with an iron armored suit. His hair was long, black, and flowed down his shoulders, while he took off his iron horse-like helmet, placing it on a nearby grey stone pedestal.

Sauron's face was rugged and elvish, almost otherworldly. Frodo stared at him in disbelief, his tears fading. There was also this fear about him. Fear that Sauron might attack him further, if he let him.

"There is no escaping this tower," Sauron told Frodo, causing the hobbit to fear him even more. "You'll see that in time to turn. Your girlfriend has just let me into her world, or rather our world, but more into the future of her world. I simply asked her and she said yes. So, it's all going according to plan."

"I don't know what you're talking about—ehh!" Frodo winced in pain. Sauron's iron gauntlet connected with his jaw, sending Frodo hurtling to the floor.

"Hmm. I see you don't believe me. Let's observe the event details, shall we?" Sauron said, pulling up a grey-rimmed portal, showing him and Frodo, once Frodo looked up and around him, of Sauron meeting with Beatrice. Frodo looked at Beatrice in wonder. She was so beautiful, but she cowered before Sauron.

No. What was she doing?

"Will you let me into your world?" Sauron asked Beatrice in the portal's image.

Beatrice stared at him in interest. An idea had sprung up. Frodo saw it in her blue-green eyes. It was a similar expression to the one Frodo gave Smeagol/Gollum. Suddenly, he understood her purpose. Her reason for saying 'yes' to Sauron that day.

"Yes," Beatrice said. Frodo could sense why she said what she said. He knew it. Somehow, he knew what she was up to.

Frodo smirked, looking up at Sauron in interest. "You're wrong. She didn't let you into our world for no reason."

"She let me into the futuristic part of her world. And now, I know why. It's so the villains can have their chosen one," Sauron smirked in triumph.

"No," Frodo said, shaking his head. "It's because she saw the good in you. She wants to help you be good again! Can't you see that, Sauron?"

Sauron slapped the poor hobbit across the face. He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't hear another word of it! "You're wrong! I'll see to that!"

"You think I don't know why she did it? It's to free you, to see the good in you! There's no mistaking it," Frodo said, sensing Sauron was a threat to him.

"I've won," Sauron said, seething.

Frodo chuckled, losing his mind. "You can kill me, but you won't win. I'll see to that."

Sauron hissed. He wouldn't hear a word of it. Frodo knew then that he would try to convince Sauron again.

Sauron grabbed Frodo by his dirty white shirt. He hissed, telling the hobbit, "I won't kill you. That would be too easy. You'll suffer for this. And so, will your girlfriend." He hissed again, dropping the hobbit. "Now what?" He snarled, waving his hand. "Time to send you back. When the One Ring discovers what you've done, what has transpired, we will see who wins." He chuckled, knowing he would win this fight.

.

The Eye of Sauron moved off of Frodo and Sam, making his way over to the Black Gates of Mordor.

Frodo relaxed. His mind was recovering from being snapped. He gulped, breathing a sigh of relief, as well as confusion. It had been two years in Barad-dûr—or had it been an hour? Frodo couldn't tell which it was. It was the most vivid, frightening dream he'd ever had. His back hurt, as did his insides, but at least he was fine.

However, the One Ring was still heavy. He wasn't out of this yet.

"The light's passed on, away towards the North. Something's drawn its gaze," Sam said. Frodo realized what had happened here.

He struggled to stand up. He was grateful for Sam's help. Frodo had a mission to complete. He couldn't waste it.