Diem Kieu: Because Delamarth or because Frodo? Or because both? XD Yeah! I didn't either until I wrote it. O.o Guess the angst had to escalate. I didn't realize it, but . . . this is the last chapter. :( I think. Unless we make it non-tragic/lead into the HEAVILY AU sequel, but that'll be put as an Epilogue or sequel-Prologue. I'm going to miss your reviews so much! *tears down face*
Oh, yeah, it'll be fascinating. XD Yeah, we're just about done. Sadness. :/

A/N: This interaction here in Mount Doom, as far as Delamarth/Sauron goes, is less actual and more spiritual-psychological. It's a little on the brink if you will, partially in her mind and partially actually occurring, if that makes any sense.

The orcs found him. Sam hid with Delamarth around his finger, and when one of the orcs pronounced Frodo still living, Delamarth nigh exploded from off of Sam's hand. They raced up to the tower, her nearly dragging Sam along for how quickly and desperately she moved. She supposed with an eyeroll that she should have known Shelob wouldn't kill him, but the loss of his heartbeat truly frightened her.

Sam fought the remaining orcs (it appeared that most were already dead), but as he did so Delamarth commanded their bodies to stop working. Each collapsed to the ground in a line. Sam stared at her in horror, but she cared not. She yanked him up the stone stairs until he lost his energy, and then she dragged him the rest of the way.

Finally they came to a ladder. Delamarth assumed Frodo was at the top, and she heard another orc threatening him. She let out an angry cry, grabbed Sam's sword, reached up and quickly eliminated that one.

Frozen on the ground, Frodo stared—terrified—as the orc slacked to the floor. But then he saw Delamarth, and somehow never had a face been so reassuring to him before. Not only did he realize she was initially attractive, but his despair, his consideration that he'd failed and that she was going back to Sauron, faded. Somehow that took more weight from him than it should have . . . as though he would have been jealous of Sauron having her.

"Delamarth!" Sam came up from the top of the ladder, straining to keep Delamarth back with the chain he still had. "Sam!"

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought you were dead for sure, Mr. Frodo."

Delamarth strained against Sam, desperately yanking to reach Frodo. Frodo smiled somewhat at her—only half of it really felt false—and he glanced at Sam. Some bitter possessiveness flooded him.

"Let her go, Sam."

Sam's eyes widened. Suddenly he felt an urge to take her to Mount Doom himself; Frodo didn't have the strength to do it, especially not after being attached to this beautiful woman. Sam slacked his grip just a little, and Delamarth jerked forward. Sam hesitantly unclipped the cuff from his wrist at Frodo's persistence, and Delamarth swung it towards Frodo. It slipped like a magnet over his wrist, latching there. She leaped down to his side and grabbed him; she desperately held him close. Her hands rubbed over his shoulders, felt for his heart: it beat strongly now.

"Oh, Frodo," she managed. "My Precious . . ." She reached back and kissed his cheek. Frodo suddenly remembered why he'd been relieved in the back of his mind that Sam had her, and afraid that she would take him. But she did not stop there. She uncontrollably scattered kisses across his face, lifted his hands and did the same to them, taking all of him in. He moved to tell Sam that they should get going, but she lowered down close to him, whimpering with relief. Frodo's brows creased as he strained not to kiss her; she wanted it so, and she didn't hesitate to let him know . . . but he knew not to.

She finally pulled away, content simply to hold him. She cut his bonds, and Sam gave him orc armor with which to travel through Mordor. Delamarth told them not to take it, but they ignored her. She transformed once again into a Ring, and managed to navigate them through the armies of the orcs. While they were all gathered to war against Middle Earth as it was, she shielded Frodo and Sam from their eyes. She felt infinitely powerful here, now once again in Mordor.

But now she was closer to Sauron.

He hissed to her, commanded, begged her to turn around towards Barad-dur. She cut off her presence from him, and he could not find her.

Her initial focus on Sauron caused her to drag down on Frodo, completely oblivious to the pain she caused him. He crossed through the heat of Mordor with the horrid weight. Her chain began to saw into his neck, and she didn't halt until Frodo collapsed to the ground, only a few yards below the entrance to the Crack of Doom.

The Ring shivered with pain. She didn't want to go up there; she could die.

But she would do it to have Frodo.

Frodo strained forward, his hope and his motivation gone. He didn't even know what let him push forward now; even if he made it out alive, he would be too broken to keep going. Sam strained to his side when he could move no more, held him and tried to remind him of home. But Frodo could feel nothing. Delamarth blocked the memories of the Shire, trying in vain to get his focus only on her.

Fear alone reigned him, nothing she wanted. She strained back, allowed him release for a small moment while Sam set a determined stare.

"Then let us be rid of her!" he cried. Delamarth glared; Sam could not know what Frodo would do, for neither he nor she had told Sam about their deal. "Come on, Frodo; I can't carry her for you, but I can carry you!" He thrust Frodo over his back, and Delamarth bitterly allowed energy to channel through them both. The sooner they got this over with the sooner she could have Frodo to herself, allow his presence to consume her like she wanted more than anything.

But Gollum attacked. He only manage to wrest Frodo from Sam's back and attempt to choke him before Delamarth shifted into a woman and lividly cracked Gollum in the nose with a solid fist. Gollum howled, falling away. He and Sam fought while Delamarth dragged Frodo anxiously up the mountain; she gave him blind strength, allowed him to charge through the stone while she brought him up by the wrist.

They ran to the end of the precipice before she stopped him.

"All right. I shall call Sauron in and show you; he will die, and I will live," she said hastily, staring frantically over her back at the lava flowing in the mountain. She lifted her hand to call for her master, but Frodo grabbed her chain, snapping it down. She stared at him, her expression growing dark and skeptical.

"Delamarth," Frodo insisted. "When I promised to be with you, I knew you could not destroy Sauron without being rid of yourself."

Delamarth's eyes narrowed; truthfully, disbelief and fear flooded her on the inside. "Frodo, I explained to you—,"

"A phenomenon that is not possible," Frodo interjected. "I believe you were trying to trick me, Delamarth, and only now do I somehow have the courage and strength to say it." Conviction bubbled within him. "I could never be with you; you've hurt me too much." Then he faltered. "I thought I cared about you. Some illusion within me is convinced that I do! But Delamarth, I—it's not possible. You are no living creature that I could love . . . are you?" Tears pricked at his eyes as he surveyed her.

Delamarth stilled, unsure how to process all of this. She couldn't go. She couldn't leave him.

He unclipped the cuff of his chain and grabbed her shoulders, moving to throw her in. "Goodbye, Delamarth."

But before he could push, Delamarth latched her fingers around his shirt collar. "Wait!"

Then he heard Sam behind him. "Frodo!"

Frodo glanced up. "I'm here, Sam," he assured.

"Destroy her!"

Frodo turned again to shove her in. But even as his hands rested on her shoulders, he looked her face up and down: oh, how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her. He remembered every moment she took care of him, every moment she caressed him. He realized what a gap there would be in his own soul if she left. She had, after all, taken pieces of his to survive without Sauron. She'd become a part of him, something that he cared about in some sick and horrid way. His heart thumped wildly in his ears, and a blush spread across his face: he never would shake the look of pure agony and hope she gave him, the shimmer of her perfect, golden eyes capturing his like the chains she wore.

No: he wouldn't destroy her, couldn't.

He reached up and tucked a strand of perfect black hair behind her ear. Everything logical screamed at him, then sputtered out like a failing flame as he surveyed her every feature, traced her skin with his finger. Frodo leaned in reverently, brushing his lips against hers. Delamarth moaned powerfully at the simple touch she'd been waiting for so anxiously, allowing her eyes to slack back. She sank her fingers into his hair, then dropped her hands to surround his shoulders. He lifted her off the ground by the waist, feeling some harsh, greedy triumph as she enthusiastically responded to his kiss.

"What are you waiting for?!" Sam cried. "Just let her go!"

Frodo only let go to breathe. Then he pecked her lips again, laid his forehead down on hers. His lungs heaved with the sudden realization of his submission, how he had given up all the light he'd known for this greedy creature before him.

But he could not process that anymore.

Delamarth shuddered anxiously, unable to halt the huge smile spreading across her face. She would never forget that kiss, not for the rest of her life, the intent way he lifted her into the air and touched her like she actually mattered as something more than a Ring, more than a trinket of great power, as though she were a real being that he loved.

He turned, his arm around Delamarth's shoulders. She smiled smugly at Sam, revealing herself to him as a woman. Sam's expression dropped, filling with hopeless dread.

"Delamarth is mine," Frodo said darkly, now suddenly challenged by this creature that wanted him to let her go. He entwined his hand with hers, and she turned him invisible as was her obligation . . . and her desire.

"No!" Sam searched frantically for Frodo—and Sauron for his Ring. He could feel her power. His spirit departed the tower of Barad-dur, and the Great Eye vanished as he materialized in his armor at the Crack of Doom. None other present noticed; Gollum had bitten off Frodo's finger, yanking Delamarth from his grasp. Frodo collapsed to the ground, and Delamarth cried out in anger and pain.

"You cursed creature!" she hissed. She tried to throw Gollum off, but he would not have it. Finally, then, Sauron reached forward with one armored hand and knocked Gollum away, into the fires of Mount Doom.

His voice filled the mountain, and Delamarth shrank back in fear. "Indeed cursed, by you, my dear," Sauron said darkly. "As are the halflings." He reached towards Frodo and Sam—the latter unconscious from an attack by Gollum—to crush them himself.

"Leave Frodo alone!" Delamarth demanded, blocking Frodo's tossing form on the ground of the precipice.

Sauron knelt down before her. "I am your Master," he growled. "You will obey my word."

"No!" She knelt down by Frodo's side and lifted him into her arms. "He is mine. I never belonged to you, Sauron," she spat. "I am Delamarth, no longer your Ring but the property and master of Frodo Baggins of the Shire!"

Sauron roared powerfully; the magma stirred at his outrage, spewing forward, licking at the sides of the rock to burn Frodo. Sauron drew his sword from his side, advancing on the hobbit. "Get away from him, you traitor." He raised the weapon.

"But I love him!" She stood abruptly and summoned the power of Mordor, of the land she knew and drew her power from. She reached over to Sam's body and grabbed Sting from one hilt and his other sword from another. "You'll have to kill me to get him!"

The Dark Lord did not even flinch. "You think you care," he sneered. Delamarth cried out angrily, lunging at him. As she ran, she and the swords grew in stature until they matched Sauron. She fought him powerfully, nearly throwing him over a few times. She swung at his torso, and he dodged; she crossed her swords to trap his neck and he deflected them.

"You think he wants you. You think you are capable of truly cherishing a living creature! You are a fool; you are deceiving yourself, as if to think anything less than power is desirable." Sauron swung at her, crashing Sting into the side of the mountain. Delamarth hissed, lifting her foot to kick him back. Sauron doubled over at the impact to his stomach, and she wrenched her blade from the mountain. Rock crumbled dangerously, threatening to throw the entire volcano over.

Delamarth drove him towards the precipice. "I don't think; I know! I have done it, Sauron, sacrificed more for him than you ever did for me!" She yelled and reached around her sword hilts to grab his shoulders. She wrenched the helmet from his head and smacked her forehead against his, causing a crack to ring out through the mountain. "I do! I love him!"

Sauron shook his head, slightly dizzied. "No. If you loved him you would let him go," he hissed. Despite the throbbing in his head, he attacked her once more. His sword slashed down on her leg, and she cried out. "You will be the death of him, my Precious." Sauron bent down low over her, and she scrambled back fruitlessly. Her eyes illuminated with their fiery script at his nearness, and she found herself hypnotized by the power in his gaze. "You will destroy him, just as I have conquered you. You tricked him into thinking he cared.

"He can never love you."

Delamarth's eyes shimmered with tears, and she cried out in sheer desperation. She launched her feet under Sauron's stomach, throwing him back over the cliff with a whoosh. He scrambled on the edge of the cliff for a handhold, and she stood above him, prepared to throw him down inside. She glared at him, fire burning in her pupils. Livid rage forced her to step on his armored fingers in an attempt to throw him down. But then she heard a voice.

"Precious . . . "

She turned back. Frodo's finger bled profusely, and he strained across the ground towards her. She faltered when she realized his eyes were blind with possessive greed.

"Precious, we must go," he hissed. She stared, horrified, as the hunger for power and for the Ring crept over him. He extended his trembling, bloody hand. "Come, Precious."

Delamarth broke into a sob. "Oh, Frodo," she whispered, shrinking to his size once more. She knelt down by his side as Sauron attempted to launch himself back over the cliff.

Delamarth cupped Frodo's cheek in her hand, searching for that glimmer of light that she loved so much, but it was gone. Frodo stared blankly up at her, his brows furrowed and his lips curled in a snarl.

She cried above him silently, allowed tears to trickle down her face and drip against his skin. He reached up for her, and she held him as she would an animal once loved and now distanced. She kissed his cheek and backed away.

"I'm doing this for you, love," she whispered. Frodo's eyes illuminated with recognition as she backed towards Sauron, who managed to launch himself over the cliff. She drew Sam's sword once more, and Sting clattered to the ground before Frodo. He stood abruptly.

"No! Precious!"

She turned and ran towards Sauron, leaped, then slammed full-on into his breastplate. The Dark Lord howled as she barreled him over the side. He collapsed into the lava, thrashing about below. He would not die until Delamarth fell. Somehow she got her dress caught on a stone on the way down, and she reached up frantically to get herself off.

Sauron was right. She had ruined Frodo, had destroyed him without being rid of his physical body. Her fingers refused to function correctly: she remembered thinking she would shatter him like glass. She had done worse; she had broken him and built him, broken him and built him until the shards could not be glued together again by any power or love in the world—he would never be strong enough to heal from what she'd done to him.

She sobbed more as emotions flooded her. She would never see her precious Frodo again, but at least she would save him from lifetimes of pain in the process.

Frodo scrambled to the edge of the cliff. Watching her fall over the side frightened him; he waited for her screams to fill the air, but they never did.

"Wait!" He slipped over the side just as she undid the cloth of her dress from the rock of the precipice overlooking her doom. She began to fall, but didn't get far before Frodo grabbed ahold of her wrist. "Don't go!" He started to drag her upwards, but the blood on his hand caused her to slip down. "Don't let go!" He swallowed. "Come on. We can get out of here, both of us!"

Delamarth stared up at him longingly. "I thought I wouldn't see you alive." She smiled through her tears. "You are a wonderful creature, Frodo. I wish I could have deserved you, and I wish I could have loved you."

"Please . . ."

She shook her head. "I've ruined you. I wish I'd never been forged, if only it could have given you true life." She bit back her sobs; she couldn't abide the thought of seeing him at the last blurred in her eyes. She wanted to maintain his image forever, but at least she would have him until the moment she melted away. "I must go, for I have hurt you beyond repair."

He shook his head, reaching down to cup her cheek. "No! It could be all right! Please, come with me! I'll marry you, I'll run with you to the north." He realized, even if he didn't love her in the way she wanted, that she was a living being, and he had grown to care for her. She was a wicked creature, but she had some good in her. "Maybe you were forged for hate and destruction," Frodo continued, "but there is something valuable in you! Truly valuable, something beyond gold and power! You cared for me; you could become one of us! Please!"

Delamarth bit her lip, then reached up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He pulled back to bring her up, but she placed her finger over his mouth to halt his movement.

"Oh, Frodo." She sighed sorrowfully, but he thought she was resigning to his wishes, and he wrapped his arms around her waist to bring her up. She laid her hands on his shoulders and brushed her lips softly against his. Frodo reluctantly sank into the kiss, knowing this was not what he meant to communicate, but unsure how else to make her stay.

She squeezed him close, ensuring he did not drag her over the precipice. She lifted her mouth to his ear. "Goodbye, my Precious."

Frodo's eyes widened as she released his neck and fell backwards. He reached down for her suddenly, but he was too late. She condensed into a Ring and waited for the warmth of a destructive home to swarm her. The lava met her curve, and she settled on the surface. Frodo had not yet let go of her psychologically; at least he would have to convince himself not to come for her if she were to melt.

Go, my love, she pleaded. He remained on the edge, frantically searching for a way to save her. This was worse than hearing her scream; she had not melted yet.

"I'll save you, I promise!" he cried. But he could do nothing, and in some sort of way he had to accept that he was powerless.

You do not love me, she insisted as the lava crept through her metal and she began to return to where she'd come from. Live a life, my Frodo. Go, be the hobbit you were meant to be. Forget about me.

But that would never happen, and she knew it.

It was her only regret, hurting Frodo in the way she had . . . being unable to truly love the one creature in the world that ever mattered to her.

As the lava swallowed her, never to let her see the one she loved again, Frodo's agonizing cry filled the air. Sam awoke to the terrifying sound.

"Delamarth!"
I've decided to post the epilogue here, and then maybe again as a prologue for the next book, and I will make my thank yous there. :) I appreciate all that have read thus far!